Learning Curve
by Witchy Willow 2.0
Summary: Ed makes the same mistakes over and over again. Ed POV Later RoyxEd
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing – obviously. The only I've ever claimed to own was my upside-down catfish, Captain Jack, and he has sadly passed on to fishy heaven. In his stead, I now own a pair panda catfish, which are jokingly named Ed and Roy for the moment. Mostly because one oddly swims in the bubble stream up to the tank light (Ed). This is completely weird behavior for a catfish – they prefer the dark – and this fish eats and eats! The other is highly territorial about the giant rock (Roy). It is the tallest and largest object in the tank, which he lays on top of surveying the tank below. I'm working on official names. But you still can't have them.

Story Dedication: To my longtime friend, companion and sounding board Patches; my calico cat. For 17 wonderful years it was always you and I and I miss you so. (3/22/1993 to 5/7/2010)

Story note/long-winded explanation: To all my long time readers, thank you for your near saint-like patience. I love you all dearly. To those of you just finding this, and providing it _still_ reads "in progress", I'll issue this warning. I drop off the grid on occasion – and for months at a time. I don't mean to do it, but it always happens. Sadly, writing is my hobby so when life comes at me it is this story that suffers and, oh lordy, does life like to kick me around. But I do promise that I will complete this. So as of 2012, I am rewriting my chapters. I know. I know. Not what you guys wanted to hear. But the reality of it is that my style changed – a bit – and all my old chapters now bother my OCD. The good news is that my revisions are full-fledged revisions that flesh out my story better. That said, I do have a chapter 18. But I murdered it. So until its resurrection you will have to wait. I'm sorry for the wait but not sorry that you can't read it. It was all wrong for this work.

Additionally, if any of you out there see a glaring omission, misspelling, whatever and would like to let me know about it – please do. Given my less than stellar update schedule, I am my own beta. I proofread over and over again, but something always makes it through. You can send editing notes to . For the time being however, please only send editing updates on the revised chapters. (See profile notes) Thank you.

The cannon for this story is based on a mixture of the manga and both FMA anime series (pretty much all of it minus the endings). I pick and choose what I like because I'm the author – deal with it. All of the spellings for cities/names have been taken from the FMA Profile books, both the manga and the anime, printed by VIZ. If you think it is spelled wrong contact VIZ not me.

And lastly (frickin' A this is getting long), this fic contains boy on boy action. If you don't like that, then why in the hell did you click on this link? Click the back button and kindly leave. Thank you. *checks* Yep, for all of you remaining onto the fic!

Learning Curve

Realization

For the longest time everything was easy. I could grasp just about any concept, no matter how difficult, with such ease. Whether it was learning new words, math, and of course alchemy I could understand it. They called me a genius – a natural talent.

So why is _this_ so hard? Why is it so difficult? I should be able to understand, evaluate, and apply it by now. To use it with such ease, it seemed as if I had always known.

But I can't.

I've failed time and time again. I can evaluate what I have done wrong. I can even understand why, but I repeatedly make the same stupid mistake in different scenarios. But it is the same mistake.

Over and over again.

Just this morning I managed to do it again. I presented the usual fanfare of complaining endlessly about going to that bastard's office. I even made a show of pretending to escape for my brother. But the truth is that I'm tired. I don't care anymore. After a while it became routine – having to report to someone else. So much so that it didn't matter to me. But alongside that routine built another. One where I complain and whine and rant and rave until I'm forced to report. Now it is expected of me – it is me. And I don't know how to change it.

There is no way to alter it since this is how others see me. I've been die cast as this incorrigible youth with a fiery temper. Who jumps at being called short – let's face it that still irks me – and hates milk. Honestly, why do people drink that stuff? It doesn't even taste good.

I can be nothing else.

Just a child.

A naïve, immature child.

How annoying is that?

But this morning I wanted to be different. I wanted to show you that I changed in the past three years. I'm not a child anymore. I don't know if I can be called an adult, with that stupid mistake following me around like a bad omen, but certainly not a child. I'm 15 years old! But what do I do? I act like a child to fill a role – an expectation. Once inside Mustang's – your – office my role continues to haunt me. I'm supposed to complain, call you names and you in return, and pass you a completely unreadable report. Just like a child would.

And I did. I played the role so well that it's second nature. I want to be different. I want to change. But I make the same stupid mistake over and over again.

Because it is expected of me.

Because I know no other way.

I know how I should act. I can understand what I should do. But I can't. I don't.

Over and over again.

I want to show you that I'm different. I want you to see that I've changed. I want you to see me as something other than a child. I want to reach a level of understanding with you – just like the others.

But how? I see how the others play their roles. Hawkeye is the strict mother type. She keeps all of her "boys" in line and ensures that the work gets done. Havoc is the gossiping and fun type. He's laid back so everyone likes him and he usually has something interesting to tell. Plus, his constant rejection by the local female population makes everyone at the office smile; especially you. Breda is the silently smart type. He gathers information with ease because everyone else assumes that a fat officer is both lazy and stupid. Falman is the neurotic regulation type. He ensures that everything is within code and running just as the military would like. This makes him perfect for paperwork processing. Kain is the little boy type. Still new, but possesses skill. They all indulge his need to harbor every animal – even you. Perhaps, Kain and I could be comparable if it wasn't for his skill. He's the technical type. He can fix everything.

In sum, Hawkeye organizes the work, Falman can complete the paperwork, Breda protects the office, Kain can fix the office, and Havoc can restore a sense of balance to the office. What is there left for me to fill? What do I do for you?

Ah, yes, my role. The occasional terror that stirs up the office.

I can't do anything else, but provide _temporary_ chaos. That is all I do.

I'm temporary.

Just a strange interruption in an otherwise functioning unit.

I want to be a part of it so badly – to mean something more than an annoyance. To mean something that is of use to you. I don't know when I started to feel this way or why, but I do. I want to mean something to you, Mustang. Not as a child, but as more of an adult.

I don't know what that something is.

I realize that I've been staring at this ceiling so long that the image has been burned into my eyes. Great, now when I shut them I can see little negative squares.

Resigned to an inconclusive and circular thought pattern, I give up. Sighing loudly, as if the act would somehow purge the doubtful feelings circling my brain, I move to stand up.

"Brother, are you alright?"

"Huh?" Al's disembodied, metallic voice, offset by so much warmth and concern, reminds me that he's still here. He's been here the entire time – at my side like always. I wonder how long I've been at this?

"Are you alright? You've been staring at that ceiling for a least an hour or so."

Well that answers that question. "Oh, sorry Al. I'm just working somethin' out."

"Can I help?"

I could swear that I saw the armor brighten. Maybe I just remember how Al would. His eyes would get wide, his smile begins to fill the lower half of his face and it looks like his entire face just, well, brightens. He's always been like this. And for a moment I'm jealous. They all see him differently – even you. They think that he is a responsible, mature adult. His only drawback is his innocence.

Instead, I put on a fake grin to show him that I'm okay.

"Nah, I don't want to think about it anymore. Let's get something to eat. I've been here too long!"

Al just laughs.

He knows I'm lying. We both are. I know he can tell that there is something wrong with me. That I'm not my usual self. But I don't have the heart to tell him that I've changed. Just like he doesn't have the heart to call me on my lie.

Roughly four months later

So here I sit again. On the same crappy, fraying couch staring at the same smug face. Your face. A sight that is forever burned into my mind. Your short, black hair disheveled like you just left whichever girl this week to get to work on time. The almost too long black bangs forever daring to obscure your eyes. Skin so pale that the contrast makes you appear delicate.

You're anything but delicate. Our mock battle – my certification assessment from a while back – proves that fact all too well. I wonder if the parade ground was ever fully repaired.

I watch your trademark smirk creep its way across your face and I wonder what caused it. That smirk is never a good sign. It usually heralds that sanctimonious tone of voice that makes me want to knock you unconscious.

Maybe it's because I bothered to type my report this time. No one ever considers the fact that prior to my failed human transmutation attempt, I had been right handed. I learned to write okay with my left and do other necessities, but it wasn't the same. And trying to write with automail is ridiculous. The fingers have never worked right.

So my handwriting can be more closely likened to a forgotten ancient text. Deal with it. I can read it just fine – most of the time.

The smirk widens. I can't take this anymore. "So what's with the stupid grin?"

You regard me with careful eyes. Those pure black eyes can hide so much. While mine betray me every time – transparent yellow. It's a dumb color anyway. I've always liked black better.

"I can read this."

"I'm glad that you're not illiterate."

"That's not what I meant." You sighed shifting in your chair causing the leather to creak. For a moment you consider the state of your uniform and brush away some unseen bit of lint. I can't help but track your every movement. "Did something change?"

I scowl back at you. Yes. "No."

"Hmm, is that so?"

Those eyes whittle away at my nerves. My only response is to cross my arms over my chest, turn my head so that you could only see my profile and close my eyes. There! There was no way you could try to read me now.

In my current sight deprived state, I feel hyper aware. As if the slightest change in this room will put me on pins and needles. The slight scratch as flint cloth rubs together, tells me you are lacing your fingers together to rest your chin on them. The uncomfortable knowledge that I am being watched, and carefully so, is only heightened by the soft rustle of your uniform as you lean forward. Staring at me, demanding a real answer to be given with those damned black eyes.

Every survival instinct I have is screaming for me to deal with the threat before me. Fight or flight. Ignoring it all, I refused to look at you. I knew that somehow the minute I looked at you, I would betray myself in some small way and you would know. I don't know how you do it or where you learned it, but you always knew. Something about me was completely transparent and readily available for you to read. Probably my freaky yellow eyes. It's not a natural color biologically speaking for humans. Cats yes. People no.

The hushed creak of leather and the loud clack of boots across the floor are soon followed by the high-pitched whine of well used hinges as the door is closed.

Oh crap.

And locked.

Shit.

You've placed me in your sights and ensured that I can't escape.

I try to regulate my breathing to slow my pounding heart. I switch positions since I can't keep this up. I kept my arms crossed, but I turned to stare at the little cannon on your desk. For back up, I know that there is also a pen and your name tag. I can alternate between them. Or I could just hang my head and hide behind my hair. Not a good option, but an option nonetheless.

And in this situation I need all the options I can muster.

"Fullmetal."

"What." Oh shit. That came out with less spite than I wanted – too soft. I sound so completely defeated. When did you get this domination over my mind?

I listened to you resettle behind your desk. I know that you are back in your former position with your hands locked together and eyes set dead on me.

I feel myself fidget and stop. My legs need to move so badly too. Everything in my body desires to flee this situation _now_, but I can't. What am I going to do?

"You've been acting… different."

"So." Ah, back to petulant child.

"Why?"

I realize that without any conscious effort on my part, I've begun to grind the toe of my boot into the floor. "What's wrong with it?"

I know I looked surprised too. I lifted my head to look directly at you. The very tactic I tried to avoid. I meant to say 'no reason', but it just popped out.

I watched you reign in your composure by bringing your eyes back to their customary narrow size and leaning forward on your hands. "There's nothing wrong, but… you don't seem to be yourself."

I remain silent and fight the urge to break our stalemate by looking at the little cannon again.

"You even left the town intact. Not one explosion or building leveled. You've been so…"

"Normal? Responsible?" I added 'mature' under my breath. Please pick a good trait. I want to be better for you.

"Agreeable."

Suddenly my nervousness stops. I wished I could gasp for breath. Cry. Anything. It hurt so badly. My stomach felt sour. My mind shocked as if you had reached across the desk and slapped me. I let my head drop; silently thankful for my hair's length. Now you can't see me – if you ever have.

A child. Nothing more than a child. A child reigned into compliance.

"Yeah and…"

"I was wondering why. You usually go out of your way to…"

"But I didn't."

"So why…"

"Because I felt like it."

"Edward…"

"Are we done? Al needs to be cleaned up."

I lifted my head again once I managed to bottle the hurt. Once I knew all I would display was that fiery spirit I'm famous for – typecasted as.

"I suppose so, but are…"

"Later."

I stood in my usual huff and for once was grateful that this petulant child act was second nature. I was a fool to think I was anything else – or could ever be. This is who I am and will be forevermore. There is no way to alter it, no way to change it. It is my part. To cause chaos, reign destruction, and be a general pain in the ass. I can't expose any of my other traits – they aren't important. Just about as meaningless as my role. It doesn't matter that I wanted you to see how kind I could be – even thoughtful at times. To show you how smart and mature I could speak. How quiet and happy I could get.

But it doesn't matter – and it never will.

I'm not sure what I wanted from you. Respect, acknowledgement… I don't know. Maybe this was all to prove something to myself. But it's over now. There was no sense in trying further. I could fall into this act. Become lost in it forever.

In the end it was a simple decision. I could change with Al. He wouldn't care. He always accepted me – gave me a friend when I had no other. Al was funny that way. If I had never been around he would have grown up just fine. He would have been normal with normal friends and a normal life. Even now, there was no one who didn't like him. Only a few people were scared of him because of what _I_ made him into. I put him in a seven foot tall suit of armor that scares people. I did it. Without me he would have been fine.

Without me…

I'm the messed up one – everyone knows. I get angry and yell because I'm frustrated. I can think like an adult, comprehend like an adult, but I can't act like an adult. I can't even _grow_ into an adult. I've been this way for so long. It's such a feeling of dissonance.

But here we are and I have a responsibility to fulfill. To fix Al – myself be damned. This was all my stupidity – my fault. This is what I'll focus on. No more distractions. Forget the military. I didn't need them as friends. I don't need acceptance. I don't need you. Focus on Al, the only person who stood by me through all of this. The only person who doesn't think that my automail limbs are ugly, that really thinks I can do anything, that knows I'm not child – I'm "big brother". The only person who should and will matter.

Somehow in my fervor I managed to exit your office, escape the surprised looks and comments from your underlings, and wander down a vacant hall where I could finally allow my face to match my feelings. I wanted to hit something, scream at this loss. To let you go. But I didn't know what to do. I only knew that I could run back to Al. He'd let me do whatever it was that I needed to do. And he wouldn't ask why.

Somewhere down the strange and forgotten path I took in the hallways, I thought I could hear your voice calling out my issued name – Fullmetal.

Probably wishful thinking.

A/N: Please review or at least rate. I love my reviewers! I hope you enjoy the new version of LC.

*Need a charity? Visit nationalmssociety (dot) org for information on how you can help fight Multiple Sclerosis.


	2. Chapter 2

Years Go By

I curled up into a little ball beside the bookshelf. The warm sun filtering in through the window had encouraged me. It felt so good – such a simple pleasure. The pile of books beside me, that I still meant to flip through, are stacked in a strange array of ugly colors. Honestly, why do libraries bind books in colors like pumpkin, olive, mustard, and I think that is supposed to be blue. Or some ugly form of it. It looks like navy with grey and brown blended into it. But I like the black book that is serving as my pillow right now – hey, it's no different than sleeping on automail.

I guess I can sleep anywhere.

The past three years were good. Well, once the whole secret conspiracy involving Fuhrer Bradley and the homunculi were over. I fixated entirely on Al and went after the philosopher's stone with new found exuberance. About a year later, I succeeded. Not with the philosopher's stone exactly, but with an inventive array of my own. Willing to lose anything, I took Al's body back.

It took everything I had to get Al back and not incur more damage to my own body. The price I paid for Al was the inability to restore myself. I was okay with that. Even though I wanted to be normal again – to have my missing arm and leg restored – I accepted this fate. It was my punishment. I trespassed in forbidden territory. I should be the one to bear the proof of it. No one else. It had taken the length of six months to convince Al that he should be okay with it too.

We were so happy after our proper reunion – our small family, Pinako, Winry, Al and me. During this time I stayed in Resembool and never left. There were no trains, no wild adventures, no near-death battles – nothing but well deserved peace spent on the quiet countryside. I loved being with them but as time went on something wasn't right. The quiet peace I had begun to give way to an uneasy sense of misplacement. As I watched Al strengthen his near atrophied human form, a line appeared.

A line I never noticed before.

A line Al refused to see.

We were two separate people once more. I had to go my way and Al his. If we continued on bound together… I didn't want to see an unhappy outcome. As sad as it made me, I severed my close bond with my brother for his betterment – even if he didn't see it yet. It was a difficult day; the day I left. Winry called me an idiot, Al refused to speak, and Granny only gave me a tight smile and told me not to be a stranger.

Despite my options, I went back to the military. I'm not sure why – no that's a lie. I know why. I just don't want to admit it. Still, the lie I held on to, the lie I told others, was logical enough. Researching on my own was too limited even with University support. While researching under a sponsor opened up possibilities, I had seen what such sponsors researched. It was never good and never within the realm of my interests. My only viable option was to return to the military. I knew that I'd never be the model solider that Hawkeye or Falman is… but I could research again. And without limitation.

With all my reservations in mind, I returned. A little bit taller – I can't seem to get past five foot five inches – and older; just past my 18th birthday. I went back alone leaving Al with Winry and Granny wondering all the while why you never sent anyone to get me – not even to see if I lived through Al's restoration. Or if I was restored. Perhaps shaking off an annoyance such as me was a welcomed relief. The entire train ride back to you I wondered and worried that I was leaving a good home – my family – for a place that would turn me away.

You didn't turn me away, but I sure wasn't warmly received. I remember the stupid jeers from your underlings, but most of all I remember the surprised look on your face. It was a strangely satisfying yet discouraging moment – seeing that smug look knocked firmly from your face. But seeing it for _this_ reason wasn't as good as I hoped. You thought I wouldn't come back. Maybe you didn't want me to come back.

But I did.

And the truth…

I came back because I know no other way.

I came back because I have nothing else to hold onto.

You let me continue to research whatever interests me at the time. Why wouldn't you? I know I make you look exceptional to the higher ups in the military and the public. Especially now with the ability to become Fuhrer available again.

All because the Council failed spectacularly.

After the Fuhrer Bradley incident, all of the top military officials split into two camps. The ones who wanted to be Fuhrer and the ones who were being quietly indicted for helping the former Fuhrer. I suppose Briggs was in its own, third, camp. The entire unit has its own problems to deal with. To ease the public, a Council was formed using the senior most members of the larger townships' legislature. The belief being that if one man wielded too much power, dividing it and giving it to a "wise" Council of elders would alleviate this problem. A bandage for a broken leg. A fact proven all too quickly. To date, the creation of the Council was deemed an unsuccessful experiment. True, they couldn't be power hungry, but they also proved to be ineffective as well. Only the reconstruction project was underway and it was moving very, very slowly. Too slowly for those affected.

But now, now with the abject failure of the Council acknowledged, the chance to be Fuhrer was reopened. I hadn't heard if they limited the Fuhrer's powers in any way, but I doubt you would waste any time reminding everyone of your bid for promotion. Now how to earn it? Military accolades might work for some, but it may make the public uneasy. Too reminiscent of Fuhrer Bradley. Well, there was the fact that you led the group that overthrew Bradley – that was gold star in your pocket. But what you really wanted to remind everyone of was me – The People's Alchemist. How your find overturned the idea that State Alchemists were dogs of the military. A plot so well planned that I could only play into your hand.

It makes me feel so bitter towards you.

I open my eyes to once again glance at the titles before me. They're all basic alchemy books. Something I hadn't read since I was five. But because of you I'm rereading them. You gave me the task of creating the new State Alchemy exam. It was a periodic task given to some unfortunate State Alchemist every two years. The idea behind it was that the test needed to reflect the current scientific understanding of the field. It wouldn't do if some applicant protested their exam on the basis of invalidated fact. Nevertheless, seeing as how I got this auspicious task, I intended to improve it is every way possible. Something you surely anticipated. More accolades in your bid for Fuhrer.

Damn, I bet I have to grade this too.

Somehow with all these thoughts piling up, I just can't seem to care about you or the stupid test. I continue to let my mind wander drifting in and out of consciousness. The sun's warmth aiding to my drowsiness, while the wood beneath me adjusted to my body temperature creating a wondrous feeling where everything was harmonious. I was almost completely asleep when I heard the clack of boots. Each sharp click shredding my tranquil state into pieces with the knowledge that only military boots made that particular disquieting sound. A sound designed to impress others with such a loud resonance.

Then again I'm at the First Branch Library's Alchemical Wing, so only military personnel should be here.

I slowly push myself up. Sleep refusing to leave my body – fighting to hold onto the tranquility from a moment ago. It's so warm. But the irritating cadence of boots draws closer to my spot along the windows. Just as I begin to rub my left eye and yawn, you turn the corner with a scowl planted firmly on your face.

I should tell you that it makes you look old. I wonder how you would react.

There had been a time when I desperately wanted to impress you. Now, it didn't really matter. I knew you wouldn't get rid of me and you knew I needed you. The People's Alchemist – your poster boy for the masses. What other value do I hold for you?

I suppose that it is a better role than temporary chaos.

I place a dopey grin on my face just to watch your reaction - to see what it would do to the scowl on your face. My results arrived instantly. The scowl dropped. In its place was stunned exasperation. Your dark eyes, contrasted so nicely against pale skin, slightly widen at my audacity and then that tick above your right eye presents itself. My experiment fails the moment those same eyes narrow once again and your mouth twists into a deeper scowl. To think that I once…

"Is this what you do all day?" Your tone quiet considering the location but still containing all the authority of one who really thinks he's superior.

Let's put an end to that.

"Sometimes. Usually I sleep over there." I point in the direction of two large windows about two yards from us.

Ah, there's that tick again. I wonder about your blood pressure. A man at your age should be careful. But I suppose that it rather hypocritical coming from someone _trying _to irritate you. A heavy sigh signals your understanding of this futile standoff. Moving to get down on one knee, you lowered yourself to speak to me face to face.

"Why do you enjoy pissing me off?"

I shrug and move to sit up so that my back is leaning against the bookshelf – my feet straight out before me.

"Edward…"

My real name, this must be important. You only say my name when you're trying to impress upon me how important something is to you. You begin to explain something, but my mind is frozen. I don't know why that reappeared in my thoughts, but it did – agreeable. Just one word. How important was just one word to me? You refused to give me that small token, but I've given you everything that is important to you. Granted, I like to make it difficult, but only because you failed with that one word.

"One word…" I muttered it so softly that I hoped you hadn't heard it the moment it slipped out.

"What?"

Dammit. "Uhhh, nothing. Go on."

"About…"

I waited, staring back at you as if to conceal my inattentiveness. Aw, screw it. "About what?"

"Exactly. Dammit Fullmetal, do you _ever_ listen?"

"Yes." I know I sound like a scolded child. A child…

You sigh again and being to rub the bridge of your nose in effort to stave off the impending headache. "Edward, I know that this is boring to you, but it is important too."

I realize that it is best to remain silent. I can't say anything that you want to hear.

"Do you understand that I've placed you in a position to decide who can become a State Alchemist?"

I nod once. Leaving my head hanging and my face completely obscured by blonde hair. I don't want you to see me. I hate it. I hate that after all this time… _even_ after all this time you still matter. The disappointment that tinges your voice coupled with the tolerated impatience one reserves for scolding a child rings loudly in my ears. I want to hate you, but some small part wants to please you still. I remind myself I do hate you. I do. It's a lie. It's a lie.

How could I ever explain this?

Your soft tone breaks through my conflicted thoughts, "Then why are you sleeping through it?"

Because I want to. Because it brings me a small moment of peace. Because between hating you and wanted to please you – I'm unable to accomplish anything.

Then you surprise me completely. I feel your fingers touch and lift my chin forcing me out of my hiding place. Your other hand brushes the hair from my face so gently that it hurts. I shut my eyes – my only option left. I'm too vulnerable now – too exposed.

You'll know.

I know you're looking at me. Those impossibly omniscient black eyes are prying away – demanding my compliance. Your fingers slip out from underneath my chin and I let my head drop once again. My eyes now open once my curtain of hair falls into place.

I hear you let out a frustrated breath. "When did you stop trusting me, Edward?"

You don't wait for the answer. You know I won't give it. Instead, I listen as the clack of boots fades away from me.

My moment of tranquility shattered into unrecognizable bits by your words.

I'm glad you didn't see what was in my eyes. I'm glad you think I don't trust you. It is easier this way – this wall between us. I have my side and you have yours. So why… why this pain? Again, I look at the pile of books beside me. Might as well finish my review. Napping is no longer an option with the guilty echoes of your voice in my head.

By the time I finished, the sky had grown dark and stars could be seen above the lit walkways. As I headed home my usual way, along Main Street in Central to Cedar, my ever fixated mind replayed our interaction in the library. Warring factions of the mind can never be quieted – especially when they argued about this afternoon. I walked into the restaurant district where the streets are thick with a variety dining choices and I always contemplate ordering a quick dinner instead of attempting to cook. It was then that I heard your voice. Looking around to see if it was really you or an echo in my memory, I scanned the line of restaurants and shops across the street.

There you are.

Isn't that in a song? Across a crowded room…

I've always liked you best when you didn't wear a military uniform. I was never one for fashion but clearly you are. You're wearing a simple, pale blue button-up shirt while carrying the assumingly matching black suit coat under one arm. Your collar is open leaving that one button undone. Even from my spot across the street I can see it. It's relaxed – casual. A state I never get to see you in. Your smile appears welcoming as you found something your date said amusing.

Your date for this night is obviously beautiful – you'd have no other. She's dressed so nicely; the hem of her lacey white skirt fluttering around her calves at every movement. A pale yellow shawl covers her bare shoulders as if to ward off an imaginary cold in the middle of summer. I watch you lean in to whisper something in her ear – running your hand through her light blonde hair.

My left hand moves the touch the end of my ponytail. If I bothered more, I'd bet my hair is prettier than hers. Her hair is the color of sand – mine brilliant gold. As the hair slips through my fingertips, I can feel the rough split ends from my lack of care. I'd bet hers isn't like that. It's probably soft – smooth to the touch like fine silk.

This is stupid.

I sigh, turning to avoid the scene before me. You look so happy. Why shouldn't you?

Going out with girl is normal. What I want… well I've never been normal. And even if you were willing, if you did want… I'd never look that good. Not with the sign of my sin as transparent as glass – an uneven walk, the touch of cold steel. Not pretty or graceful at all.

And what romance novel writes about cold touches? Isn't it supposed to be warm?

I realize that I'm clenching my right hand in a fist. Lifting it as if to inspect it, I stare at it – this strange part of me. It isn't normal. I suddenly wished it was cold enough to wear a coat and gloves. Instead, I'm exposed in my usual black tank top. Running my left hand over the metal of my right arm, I remember that I wouldn't feel temperature anyway. Not on that side.

What was I thinking anyway? That you would give it all up? Forget your destined climb through the ranks – the thing you worked so hard for. For what? Me?

The best and worst part about dreams is that they never come true. If it did then it was never a dream to begin with. It was a goal.

I forgot who said that.

Never mind dinner. I need to get home. I'm being far too honest with myself tonight.

I managed to find my way back to my apartment. Living in the dorms had been far too suffocating. Plus the walls were way too thin – cheap government housing. There were no secrets in the dorms and, frankly, listening to the sexually frustrated enlisted males of the Amestrisian military was disturbing. With my rank I was able to get an apartment and I moved the instant it was approved.

I'm greeted by my current roommates in a chorus of loud whines and yips. For some reason without even trying I accidentally made friends with one of your underlings – technically two but I would never count Riza as an underlying. Still, I hadn't meant to befriend either of the two, but the two of them had somehow found their way into my life time and time again. Riza gave me the support I needed and a willing ear. In return I tried to help her whenever I could – or at least not piss her off. I guess I couldn't resist a substitute mother. Kain had just needed me. Being a big brother, I couldn't resist creating a supplemental Al – just one who preferred dogs. Now my apartment acts as a temporary shelter for the various strays he finds. In truth, however, those animals have kept me sane. Especially one in particular. It was a black mutt that barely stood a foot off the floor that I affectionately named Scruffy since his hair was always a mess.

I fed the others as Scruffy followed me around. I really do love that dog. He always listens to my every complaint – not like he really has a choice, but I think he does care. Kain agreed with me. Animals know when something is wrong. Just like tonight. Scruffy somehow knows I'm not right tonight.

Seeing you did this.

Seeing you with _her_ – any her in fact.

I watch Scruffy circle the foot of the bed for the eighteenth time before he flops down to roll over on his back. He looks so cute right now. His ears flopped out flat on the bed making the faint traces of pink under his ears visible – his little tongue hanging out. He looked at me through nearly fur covered eyes. 'Feel better.'

Is it that simple?

Feel better. Move on. Forget about you?

I don't know anymore. I reach out with my left hand to rub his belly – getting a look of contentment from Scruffy. He likes me.

I wish you did.

I figured that you'd be available sometime around two in the afternoon. By then the usual morning craziness had subsided – so I wouldn't have to deal with that crap. Plus you were more receptive to listen to my ideas, radical as they may be.

And today I want to fire people.

It took me another three days to complete the new version of the stupid test that allowed me in here in the first place. After that was finished, I set my sights on the current list of State Alchemists. Upon reviewing those, I realized that I work too damn hard. Which is why I want to fire people. Their research sucks – it's both pointless and stupid. And it took a whole day of _my_ time to figure that out.

They had to pay for that.

I know that's mean but… okay so I do like power. Mwhahahaha.

I popped my head into the outer office door to scan the occupied desks. Havoc was in the corner pretending to be somewhere else as his cigarette burned dangerously close to his mouth. Breda was hidden behind the afternoon edition of the newspaper. Hmm… if he's done reading it by the time I'm finished with you I won't have to buy a copy. Kain is nowhere to be seen along with Falman – maybe a late lunch. I felt Hawkeye's eyes rest on me. Placing on my usual grin, I walked over to her. She appeared to be attempting to figure out why I'm here.

Riza Hawkeye was an interesting friend. Outside of work she can be so insightful, even amazingly sweet, but during business hours she can be scary. Almost like she was two different people – she even wears her hair differently. So it's always a tossup. But now, I'd bet she was wondering what kind of hell I'm going to raise in the next five minutes.

Why leave her hanging?

"Hey, Hawkeye." I point to your office. "Is he busy?"

"Always." I pick up 'since he's lazy' under her breath. I can't deny the truth to that. "But he's not back yet."

Or maybe she is wondering why I'm here and you're not. "Huh? But it's a little after two."

She creased her dark blonde brows slightly revealing a level of surprise in her brown eyes. "I'm surprised you know his schedule. He should be here by…"

I watch her head lift up slightly making me wonder what's happening behind me. It's moments like this when I wish I had better instincts – not that I don't. For some reason, in this office, I'm continually reduced to a fumbling idiot. That's when I felt your hand at the back of my neck. Your fingers curling slightly at the juncture of my throat and flesh shoulder. You addressed me in your flat commander voice – the one I hate so much. The one that reminds me…

"Hello Fullmetal. I'm surprised to see you. I thought you were spending your afternoons sleeping at the library."

I tried turning to level my own insult when I realize that the pressure you've placed on my neck won't let me. I tried to turn again only feel you hold me in my place. I can only turn one way. Away from you, towards my left, and directly in the path to your office. Frustrated and pissed off beyond belief, I tried to jerk free once more and felt your grip tighten. Surrendering to my current position, I spat out the only thing I could, "Bastard."

"Now, now. I'm being nice…"

"The hell you are!"

You begin to push me in the direction of your office and I notice Hawkeye give me a grim smile. Sometimes I think she knows how I feel about you. Then again, I think she feels the same way I do. We both… we're held at arm's length from you. The only difference between us is that she is a fellow officer. I'm a stray you found on your way to the top. Just some weird thing you found on a fishing expedition.

I'm a fool to want more.

"Now Fullmetal, that was friendly. It's not like I made a joke about your stature."

Now I'm furious – again. I hate how you make me feel. I can never be sure. I'm angry, pissed off, then sad to happy to who knows what's next. You make me bounce around so much that I can't react because the next one is already coming and I don't know what to do. You purposely keep me off balance – so unsure.

I feel your hand release some of the previous pressure. I really want to get even for this treatment. You don't do this with anyone else. Why me? And why just recently? Just as I'm ready to make a complete spin to face you and tell you off properly, you surprise me again. Your thumb begins to make small, slow, careful circles – like you were actually caressing me.

I didn't think one could feel their mind shut down.

I don't recall anything other than the pressure of your hand guiding me into your office and that sly moment of your thumb. Next thing I knew, you had managed to get me compliant enough to maneuver me towards one of the chairs facing your desk. As you guided me to the selected chair, I felt your hand skirt across my back and slide off just above my waist line. You walked around to the other side of the desk without faltering – like nothing had happened. Completely numb from shock, I sat down.

When did you start touching me!

Just like in the library. How could just one touch… how could such a little touch… it's all so confusing.

I'm off balance.

I blink staring off blankly at the curtains behind you. I start to feel a little cold from the lack of warmth from your hand.

"Fullmetal?"

"Oh, uh… huh?" Brilliant. And _I'm_ a fucking a genius. If I could have, I would have smacked my own forehead.

"What did you want?"

Oh the dirty comments that came to mind. "Oh, I, uh…" Slowly the gears in my mind resumed their usual movement – it was difficult after a forced shut down. "I… I wanted to show you how the test is coming along."

Those black eyes widen in surprise as your lips formed a self-satisfied grin. Leaning forward to place your chin on folded hands you lock eyes with me. I have your full and undivided attention.

Why the hell did I want that?

I wanted… _needed_ to fidget like a child in a church pew. Bearing the all-consuming awareness that nothing is really comfortable, except the desire for constant movement.

"That's… new."

I really hate your word choice. But that cold dose of reality helped to settle my fidgety behavior.

"Yeah, well, I've pretty much destroyed the original test." I tossed a copy of my handiwork onto the desk causing a stray paper to float off the desk and flutter onto the ground without a sound. I'm kinda disappointed I only got one. "That and I reviewed the current employment list of State Alchemists to ensure that the test reflects what we actually do. As a result, I want-to-fire-some-of-them." I slurred the last bit together as a single word and winced as I waited for the impending explosion.

Or so I thought.

You calmly took the copy I threw and flipped through it mildly interested. I watched the dazzling array of wild blue and red marks from my own hand fall on top of one another as you flipped the papers. I still write like crap – it doesn't get any better so why try? Finished with the small booklet, you placed it on your desk with your hand on top of the copy to stare back at me. I tried to stare back. But I ended up looking away to the curtains behind you, the bookshelf on the left, the door to the right, the little cannon on the desk, the amazing craftsmanship of the hardwood floors.

"Fullmetal."

"Huh."

"What was that last part?"

"I reviewed the current employment…"

"Not that."

"I want-to-fire…"

"That. Repeat that – slowly."

My traitorous foot began to grind itself into the floor. Placing my eyes on your name tag I began. "I want…"

"Up here. I know it's hard, but look up."

Gritting my teeth to hold back a rather impressive insult, I look up at you. Did you know I needed to be pissed off to look you in the eye? Without anger, my courage to face you flies away. "I want to fire some of them."

"Why?"

Wait… why?

Feeling slightly elated at the realization that you are being receptive to my idea, I tried to think of the best way to explain my reason. The kind of explanation that those underlings in the outer office would give. Something you would understand. Something you would respect.

"Their work is terrible – barely readable. It's mostly pointless, with a few exceptions."

I watch you lean back in your chair making the leather creak. Folding your hands and placing them beyond my sight, "How so?"

Continuing on with my newfound sense of… well, I really don't know. Equality? Acceptance? I actually don't know the word for this. I entered into my long winded rant about their work – attempting to make it better than a rant; more like a rational rant. I really can't say if I succeeded. I described how the subjects were pointless, the research wasn't up to standard, some experimental groups appear to have been faked or cherry picked, some results looked completely made up, the writing was sub-par, and so much more. You remained passive the entire time. I'm not sure if I impressed you or just irritated you by the end. I stupidly hoped for the former.

"Hmm." You leaned forward again assuming your common pose. "Is that all?"

Is that all? You want more than that? Damn, maybe I wasn't as prepared as I thought. Should I have brought examples? Maybe a list of the names I wanted to fire. "Pretty much."

"Okay. Do you have a list?"

Shit, I should have brought a list. "Not on me. I wanted to run the idea by you first."

"That's fair. Make up a list of names and explanations why. I'll look into the process, but if you're right about the work then the State should revoke their Certification."

I couldn't suppress the smile that snuck its way onto my face. You really listened to me this time – maybe I even impressed you. Granted, it will probably only make you look good to the higher ups and the public for fiscal conservancy, but in a way you supported me. It was my idea. It was what I wanted to do. I felt a strange bubble of excitement fill my chest.

"Okay, I'll get it to you tomorrow?"

"That's fine."

Too happy to care, I watched you resume the tiresome process of signing your name. Really, why don't you buy a signature stamp? If you had a few stamps even the underlings in the outer office could speed up the signing process. Not like Breda's doing anything – oh yeah, Breda's paper. I've got to get it before I go.

I reached the door and went to open it when I felt you behind me. Did anyone tell you you're being really sneaky today? I usually can hear your boots. I froze in place with my hand on the dull brass knob – my back to you. What should I do?

You leaned down to my right side close enough so that your breath brushed hot against my ear. I suppressed the urge to shudder. "And Edward I do trust you."

You brushed the hair from my ponytail off my shoulders running your fingers over me and down my back. Ah… the air was too thick to breathe as I nervously gulped any air into my mouth. I could picture the look of pure shock pasted on face – my eyes so impossibly wide that they seem to consume half of my face.

I can't respond to this. My face felt hot as my heartbeat quickened to the point I felt as if I had just finished a fight with a homunculus. Pulling myself together long enough to nod weakly in the affirmative, I bolted out the door. The fear of others being able to read my expression so strong that I forgot about the newspaper I was going to swipe.

I didn't stop moving until I reached the library. I needed to be around items I felt secure with – safe. Books were always safe. Always dependable. It also helped that they were inanimate objects without emotions or feelings to confuse the living hell out of me.

Unlike you.

Finding a back section of the library I knew no one visited, unless Scieszka was on shift, I felt I could finally relax. I sat down on the floor curling my legs up to my chest and my back against the bookshelf. Taking a moment to calm down, I let the familiar scent of bound pages soothe me.

Okay what happened?

I replayed the entire interaction between us again in my mind. The only anomalies were that: one, I was unable to insult you back; two, you listened you me and not the usual half-hearted I think you're just entertaining childish babble listening either; and three, you kept touching me. While the first two indicate some sort of adult interaction between us – maybe that more equal relationship I wanted so badly before you said "agreeable" – the last one says something else.

A big something else.

If I was a girl I would have sworn you were hitting on me – subtly yes, but still flirting. But I know you differently. I wonder what it really means?

I was so consumed in my thoughts – trying to understand you – I didn't hear the sound of boots clicking against the floor. It wasn't until you were standing before me that I noticed you. I look up from my current position. My eyes tracing you as I followed a line from your boots to your face. Panic grips my already frayed nerves and tightens my chest, as it dawns on me that I'm completely alone and no one comes back here. I haven't felt this way since Al was nothing more than a hollow suit of armor.

Your left hand lowers to my eye level in an unspoken gesture of aid. It felt so surreal – like my body and mind were separated. My limbs moving of their own accord and not my will. The rough texture of flint cloth closing in around my hand lets me know I accepted your offer. I can't move my eyes to verify. Once I looked up at you, I haven't stopped staring at your face trying desperately to read your expression. Why? Why are you here?

You haven't said a word yet. It's beginning to bother me more and more. My restricted chest barely lets in a full breath and my overloaded mind is digging itself deeper and deeper into complete alarm. Say something! You've never passed up a chance to crack a joke at my height or make some comment just to piss me off. Especially now when you have all the ammunition you need. Please say something anything – even if it hurts.

But you don't.

Your hand leaves mine to place them on either side of my head – your thumbs underneath my jaw. I've never seen you like this before. You almost look confused. And you never are. Not that I've seen.

I open my mouth to speak and my shortened breath restrains my voice. Forcing the resolve to speak through my mind in order to end this silence, "Gen-er-al…"

It is broken and weak, but a word manages its way out.

The heavy wool cloth of your uniform makes a small, near undistinguishable sound as you lean down to whisper into my ear, "Shh."

The feeling of hot air brushing past my ear is becoming all too familiar. There was no way I could suppress the shudder that tickled its way through my shoulders and neck. Not with you this close and your intention muddled.

I hear you give out a muted chuckle. What did I do? Again against my ear, "I should have known you'd… Ed, you confuse me so."

"Huh? Gen…"

I'd never been happier to be cut-off mid-word. You claimed my mouth in a movement so practiced that I barely registered it. At first nothing connected in my mind. I just stood there letting you do whatever it was you desired with me. Your fingers sliding along my jaw line to keep my head up. Your lips, surprisingly soft, placing such gentle pressure. When I found it in me to respond, you quickly rewarded me with a small groan.

Your hands left my jaw to guide my arms over your shoulders, telling me to keep them there by silent gesture. Soon I had wrapped them around your neck – forcing me to bend my back to meet you. With my acceptance, any sense of hesitation was lost. I felt your kiss become aggressive, more demanding as the softness you began with faded into something more urgent. Your tongue swept across my lips and I quickly parted them for you. Eagerly letting you in. Those guiding hands moved to my waist to lift me off the ground and press my body against the bookshelf for leverage. Your tongue explored my mouth sliding over my own – encouraging a response.

I had never felt anything like this. My body almost uncomfortably hot and my head so light – my thoughts swimming. I moved my tongue to respond to yours. Pushing back and even entering your mouth as I tightened my grip on you. I couldn't help but moan. All of this was too much. The way you were touching me – now kissing me. What did it mean?

A deep growl was the only response to my unspoken question. Urgency gripped both of us tightly as you shoved me harder against the shelf. Trapping me so that no space existed between our bodies. The heat from your body sending such new sensations through me – making my legs weak, my heart pound. I could hear both of us breathing so shallowly – needed much more air, but not daring to break this.

It finally had to end. Separating enough to catch the air we so desperately needed but holding onto each other still pinned against the shelf, you lowered your head to my left side kissing the skin on my neck. It wasn't enough, soon your tongue placed a long lick against my throat – enough of an invitation for me to lean my head back giving you the space you desired. Not one to waste what was freely offered, you feverishly began to nibble and suck at the newly exposed skin.

I moaned again. My body so incredibly hot. This had to be a dream – this isn't real. I couldn't have kissed you. You weren't really here. I would wake up from this hot and aroused in tangled, sweaty sheets and Scruffy at the foot of the bed. As if knowing I was denying this, you bit down gently enough to cause a shock of pain to my system. The act eliciting a small cry of surprise from my lips and forcing me to focus on you.

Licking over the bite, I felt your lips trace my throat down to my collar bone until you reached the hollow of my throat. You placed such a sweet, chaste kiss there it was confusing. As if the urgency – the heat – from just moments ago evaporated into thin air. You moved to my chin and repeated the action. Finding my mouth once again, you kissed me so sweetly that I feared the intention. Did I do something wrong? What changed? I slid down the bookcase as you gingerly set me back onto the ground. Your shallow pants for breath mirroring my own.

I open my mouth to speak, but I don't know what to say – how should I address you?

You move again to grasp my shoulders and press me against you – almost like we were hugging. You laid your cheek against the top of my head as your fingers moved up to play with the loose hair from my ponytail.

I wanted to ask so many questions right now. But most of all I wanted to know what this exactly meant. Do you feel the way I do?

I need an explanation. What is it? Dammit, I don't understand? You have to tell me. I want to break this contact just so you would understand my need to know, but I don't want to.

I won't.

I've wanted this all along. I told myself that it was only respect – acknowledgment that I was a capable adult. But that was another self-deluding lie. I didn't want to admit it to myself. That I was annoyed with myself for being unable to hide my feelings. That I feared you knowing what was behind my blushing – my repeated attempts to avoid your gaze. That the reason it hurt so deeply when you called me "agreeable" was that it felt like a rejection.

I tried to convince myself that there was no chance especially when the sign of my sin was made permanent. When there was no chance at restoration…

But in truth I still held hope.

You finally broke our contact again. Your fingers tipping my chin upwards so that I have to look at you once again. While your other hand moves to stroke my cheek gently.

So quiet it was a whisper from your lips, "Edward…"

My mind screamed for an answer. With our self-imposed silence now broken, "What… I don't…"

"Shh. I'll explain later. Be home around seven tonight. I should be able to leave work by then."

"Uh… oh, okay."

You moved again to press a soft kiss to my lips. The brief contact only fueled my desire for more. Apparently satisfied with our parting you walked away – as if what had happened, didn't. I leaned back against the bookshelf. My mind was a mess – everything about me felt so disjointed.

What changed?

Why are you doing this now?

Why did I have to wait for seven tonight? Tell me now! Ease my anxious mind. I'd built this barrier between us. It was designed to keep us apart – in part to calm my overly hopeful desires. But mostly it allowed us to… to keep up the charade. I hate you, you Bastard, and you tolerate me. With barely a word you've shattered it, broke it into pieces, and I'm not sure how to proceed.

The large tower in the center of Central Command chimed loudly to tell everyone that it was four in the afternoon. That gave me three hours until… you'd come to my home. The one that was currently occupied by three strays, Scruffy, and my general mess.

Suddenly finding it in me to move again I scrambled to head home. I couldn't let you see the state of my home right now. A small part argued that it didn't matter. That if this was going where I hoped it was, you'd have to accept me as I am.

Funny how that argument sounded strangely a lot like Al's voice.

I shook my head. Nope, that damned desire to make even the slightest positive impression on you won out. I needed to conceal my less than stellar housework. Gathering up my things I've never been so eager to leave a library.

A/N: Please review/rate – it makes me so happy.

*Need a charity? Visit nationalmssociety (dot) org for information on how you can help fight Multiple Sclerosis.


	3. Chapter 3

Tell Me

I entered my apartment still panting from my run. I had gone straight home from the library passing the shocked expressions on the librarians' faces. They knew me too well and were concerned about my hasty departure. I never flee the library – I'm usually hiding in it.

Outside, the warm afternoon air was stifling without the aid of fans. It warned me to walk, but, about two feet into my walk home, I broke out into a run from pure adrenaline. There wasn't a thought in my head except the fact that you were coming over tonight.

Tonight.

My body came to a screeching halt – frozen in my entryway as the world threatened to tilt. Suddenly, I couldn't find enough air. The rapid intake of air only worsened my situation. I braced myself against the door for a moment.

Oh shit – what did I agree to? Was it to talk or… at the time you told me to be home you could have told me anything and I would have agreed to it. I wasn't thinking. I was just… just feeling. It was all so new. I'm not adept to social situations. You are. I've never even been on a date before. I've never been touched or even kissed – not like that – before.

I've also never been this alone before. I've always had Al at my side – to listen to my every thought, worry, anything. But I set him aside and returned alone. I could turn to Riza for help but I didn't know where she stood regarding you. And to break down and call Al meant confessing something I wasn't quite ready for. I didn't realize how isolated I've become.

A soft whine brought my attention to the floor. Scruffy stood up on his hind legs, whined again and turned his head sideways. 'What's wrong?'

Grudgingly, I had to acknowledge that my onset of dizziness had nothing to do with afternoon heat.

I walked into the bathroom at the beginning of the hallway – a simple guest bathroom. It was the closest and I didn't want to risk any farther in my state. Once the taps let out cold water, I splashed my face trying to cool off. Physically _and_ mentally. I needed to reengage my logical side. To think this out in the few hours I had.

Leaning over the sink, I looked into the mirror. I remember brushing Havoc off the other day when he commented on how pale I've gotten – thinking that he was just giving me crap, but… it's true. My tanned look had faded once my travels ended and I became library bound. The only thing giving my face color was my hair – setting off a golden contrast. Maybe if it had been black I would have looked refined or perhaps stately? Instead I think this is more sickly.

You found this attractive?

I need reunite my friendship with the sun.

Sighing, I turned from the mirror and went into the bedroom to change out of these clothes. I dug out a decent pair of black denim pants that didn't look too much like they've been living on the floor for a few weeks. I was thinking about locating my usual black tank top when I recalled my appearance. Instead I found fresh white one in the closet.

I gathered up all of the miscellaneous crap that had accumulated in the apartment and threw it into the bedroom closing the door behind me. Each small task calmed my anxious mind with methodical ease. With my mind settled, tonight's events were clear. No one, and I mean no one, but me is going in there tonight. This was only about this afternoon and nothing more, right?

Sure of this decision, I moved on to straighten up the second bedroom – a.k.a. the Kennel – and fed the dogs. With the three strays distracted by the arrival of food, I closed the door to lock them in until you left. I ushered Scruffy away from the door to follow me into the kitchen.

Once my mind lets go of its current fixation it tends to discover that I'm hungry. I made a quick sandwich to eat – tossing some scrap meat to Scruffy – as I gathered up all of the research materials onto the kitchen table into a respectable pile. Once straightened, the table looked an awful lot like your desk.

A fact that earned a smirk as I thought of the comparison.

A smirk that ended as soon as I pictured the actual desk with its owner sitting behind it.

You will be here soon and I'm still wondering about your intent. I reminded myself of my resolution, but the logical side I was desperately trying to utilize questioned my ability to keep it. I glanced around one last time at the apartment and decided that it looked okay. After all you wouldn't expect me to be too tidy – would you?

Dammit.

If I'm messy I'm me. The me who usually is too concerned about gathering information on any given topic to care about appearances or any other socially acceptable pursuit like cleaning. And it wasn't as if you hadn't seen me buried in a mess of books, paper, and other various articles. But what if you think this means I'm still a child. A child who still needs an adult to remind him to pick up his stuff.

Why do you make me think about these things?

I was struck with the realization that somehow you had managed to transport the uncertain and off-balance sensation I get in your office into my home. _My home_. Ugh, why was I allowing you to do this?

I could tell a worried look had spread across my face as I heard Scruffy's whine again. I looked down and picked the dog up, carrying him over to the couch where I set him down on my lap. I was running my left hand through Scruffy's hair – fretting over the state of the apartment and your opinion of it – when the doorbell rang. Scruffy let out a growl and ran to the front door.

I sat there frozen.

I know you're there.

Think. Think dammit. I shut my eyes shaking the fear and nervousness from my face. I'm counting on logic. Taking a breath, I walked over to open my door for you. I'm letting you in. I'm scared – so scared.

The door seemed to open in stages. Like one of those motion pictures played too slowly on a reel – each new slide jumping from scene to scene. Once open, there you were on the other side still in your uniform. The blue jacket had been discarded, however, revealing the white, button-up shirt you always wear underneath. That one collar button was undone.

Just like the other night on your date – with her.

Why did I think of _that_?

I scraped together what was left of my function brain, "Hey."

The grimace on your face changed as you gave me a smile back. "Hello, is this yours?"

I followed the line from your finger to Scruffy – still pleased with the fact that you smiled at me. Did I somehow make you happy? Oh, wait, Scruffy is growling.

"Yeah, that's Scruffy." I picked up Scruffy once more trying to calm the upset dog. His small body felt ridged in my arms as I felt the echo of vibration from his growl. Odd. Scruffy likes everybody. He's never barked or growled at anybody he's met before. Bypassing this for the moment, I decided to comment on your condescending tone regarding my pet, "I thought you liked dogs."

"I do, but I wouldn't call that a dog. Can I come in or do you intend…" You gestured to my doorway with a questioning look.

"Just get in here. I should tell you to go after making fun of my dog." I tried to walk back in with a huff, but it was hard with Scruffy squirming in my grasp. It was more like a wobbly walk. Apparently your entry into my home was a call to arms and Scruffy wanted to battle on the front lines. Opening up the Kennel, I placed Scruffy in with the others. Just while you're here since he doesn't appear to like you.

I made a mental note to ask Kain about this behavior. Normally, Scruffy is great with guests – unexpected or otherwise.

When I turned back and headed for the front room I saw that you were just standing there. I had cleared both the couch and the overstuffed chair of debris – neatly piled on the coffee table before both – so you could sit. But now I find you standing there and I feel mildly insulted.

Were you surveying the apartment?

Was it what you expected?

Or worse, it _was_ what you expected.

"Do you have more of those things back there?" Your question carried a bored tone. Almost as if I was the last meeting in your schedule before a hot date that night.

You're the one who called this meeting. Confused, I continued on, "You mean dogs?"

Good humor lined the persistent bored pitch to your voice, "Well, if the others look like that black thing, then no, I don't mean dogs."

This was getting me nowhere. I stepped into the living area with a sigh born from a variety of concerns. You were supposed to be here to explain this afternoon; not debate what constitutes a dog. You were supposed to want to talk to me; not treat this conversation like a chore. A heavy feeling consumed the pit of my gut sending the worst thoughts running through my mind. Was everything I'd hoped for… everything I'd built up from this afternoon a mistake? A misunderstanding on my part?

I had little choice. Ignoring the foreboding feeling in my gut, "No, the others don't look like Scruffy. Yes, there are three others back there. Before you ask, I've been taking care of the strays Kain finds until he can find homes for them."

"I didn't know you two were so close."

"I should have some friends don't cha think?"

You nodded a reluctant affirmative response and allowed silence to control the room.

I couldn't take it anymore. It was time to get to the point, "So," I began, "explain."

I heard you give a soft laugh. "Always to the point, Edward?"

I've never been demure or coy and social segues were beyond me. I'm overly blunt and generally coarse when it comes to speech. You know all of this. Walking over to you in an attempt to prevent any further derailment of the topic at hand, "Listen, I want to know just what… well… uh… Aw, dammit!" I hung my head in defeat. Why am I so tongued tied around you? Why can't I just say it? What happened? What in the hell did that kiss mean?

I never saw you cross the room. I only became aware of your proximity when I felt the palm of your hand cupping my cheek and pulling my face upwards. The library came rushing back to my senses. The strangely hot, light-headed sensation raced through me – almost as if I had a fever. My eyes longed to drift closed while my heartbeat threatened to drown out all other sounds.

I want you to kiss me again.

For a moment we made eye contact, your gaze searching for who knows what from mine when I felt your hand slip away. I lowered head and shut my eyes just in time to hide my rejected desire. Noticeably apparent in my easily read yellow eyes. That touch… it made me want so much.

Do you know what you're doing to me?

What you are making me foolishly hope for?

And just like this afternoon, I emerged from my distracted thoughts to discover that I'm being guided around my home to my couch. You're always so pushy. You sat us down facing each other, but close enough that I could feel your knee against mine. Those damned dark eyes forever refusing to give me even a hint of what was to come.

"Edward," you began, running your fingers through the longs bangs on either side of my face. It feels so good – so right. My eyes want to shut again, but I force myself to watch this. Trying to find a clue as you pulled your hands away. "Edward, about this afternoon."

The tone was all wrong – cold and formal. I _was_ the last meeting; the final loose end to tie up in your day. The stupid, hopeful fantasies I had all afternoon shattered in an instant. Cool logic reminded me that it was all too perfect after all. I suddenly saw _her_ so clearly in my mind. Her soft sandy hair, the pretty white dress, the smile on your face at something she said. It was all a horrible mistake.

Didn't you know, Ed? You see, I was dumped by that blonde girl and you kinda look like her so…

"I shouldn't have done that…"

Because you're still just a kid to me.

"You're still so young…"

And I should be protecting a little guy like you from these adult things.

"Edward… Edward, are you listening to me?"

Yes and no.

This is goodbye.

And I don't want to hear it.

Instead of an answer I turn to stand and face away from you. I don't want you to see how this hurts. How hard I'm trying to keep everything together. I can hear the throbbing in my ears as the emotion wells inside me and promises tears. It's deafening – threatening to break me in front of you.

I want to be angry with you, but I just can't. I was a fool. A stupid, childish fool who got too far ahead of himself.

Tilting my head upwards to prevent the possibility of tears, and donning my comfortable, petulant child act, "Just spit it out already. I don't need any of your fucking excuses." See? Just as you expected of me. I'll curse and rant like a child to give you a reason to go.

And do it quick before this act slips away from me.

I was waiting for the sound of the door closing, but you surprised me again. Your arm was warm as I felt it cross over my left side. It wasn't until you tightened your grip when I realized that you've trapped me against your own body – your arms locked firmly across my chest. My courage to maintain this façade broke instantly.

You lowered your head to my left side to speak softly in my ear – stirring a slight shudder. "Edward, you really should start listening to me."

Keeping me locked in this position, you repeated, "What I had said, was that I shouldn't have pushed you so far in the library this afternoon. I'm accustomed to rather… experienced women and I forgot that you are new to this. Right?" Despite being right next to my ear, you muttered 'because you sure weren't shy' as a justification for your rash behavior. "So if I made you uncomfortable I'm sorry."

What the… so what is this? Do you mean that what happened is good, or are you apologizing for it? I broke the hold you had on me. I needed space. When you're that close… I tend to not think. "What do you mean? What is this? Because…"

I feel so confused.

I watch you grin and get a feeling that I've just become prey. "Edward, I meant the kiss in the library. I just didn't mean to take it so far so fast."

Oh.

OH.

Continuing on, "You've always seemed out of reach. Like you didn't really want anyone else around. But lately I thought maybe… and you responded so well."

I felt completely floored. The blush so hot on my face I had to be bright red. Instinctively I dropped my head to hide behind my bangs. "S-so you… and I…"

Dropping your voice to a low, soft tone, "So, Edward?"

Your fingers slipped underneath my chin again pulling my head up once more. When did you get so close to me again? My mouth is completely dry and the desire to wet my lips has never been stronger. My head is so light that I worry about passing out.

"I… you mean… you like me?" Now that was that amazingly stupid. I wonder if it is possible to die from embarrassment.

I heard your soft laughter at my smooth query and melted at the sound. "Yes, I like you, Ed."

" 'cause I like you too." I'm getting worse. Sorry about that, the blonde roots are sinking in deep. IQ dropping quickly. Somebody please stop me before I get any worse.

You laughed again before placing a sweet kiss against my lips. So soft and warm. Please, please don't stop.

Pulling away your lips from mine, you whisper into my ear, "It's Roy, Edward. Call me, Roy."

Now it's my turn to give off a nervous laugh. Wishing I could bite my lower lip, "Okay, Roy."

You smile again, but this one is different. It was something I've never seen before. Almost as if you had been waiting for the day I said your real name – not General, not Colonel, bastard General/Colonel, not hey you, or just plain bastard – but your real name.

"Mmm, I finally have your attention. Maybe I should have tried this earlier?"

The shock that spread across my face couldn't have been more evident. The warm feeling pulling me into quiet contentment was immediately ruined. I pulled myself away from those deceptively inviting hands. "What was _that_?" Adding a hint of venom on the 'that'.

"Nothing. It's nothing." You placed your hands up in mock surrender grinning. I can tell you're joking, but still. Why do you have to sling shot my emotions like that? Why couldn't you let it be?

But with this line drawn, I can't back down. You _can't_ keep doing that! "You arrogant bastard! Did you think that you can just…"

You cut me off mid-rant by pulling my chin upwards again to meet you halfway as you bent down to accommodate my height and claimed another kiss. I relaxed instantly. I want to yell at you more, but I've lost the will the fight. I know that this bad – I shouldn't let you win like this. Your body feels too good against my own. I've wanted this for too long.

The kiss was soft and frustratingly brief. Releasing me once more, you walk back to the doorway. "Forgive me. I can't help but enjoy irritating you." I began to tell to you exactly where you can take your half-assed 'forgiveness', when you added, "You can be so cute."

Uh, what? I dropped the hand I had raised to give the insult. Cute huh? I guess I can deal with cute, but I don't want you getting any ideas. Better say that.

"Cute? I'm no girl."

Grinning back and dropping your tone to that low, confidential level, "Oh, I know that."

I felt the blush return with a vengeance as you laughed again. This must be what is so cute. Dammit.

"Edward?"

"Yeah."

"I still expect that list of names tomorrow."

What? After what you put me through tonight! I'm exhausted trying to keep my thoughts in order. "Not happening." It's all your fault that you "enjoy" riling me up. Bastard.

You raise your eyebrows in mock surprise. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Hmm."

Your keys made a slightly metallic clink as you played with them in the doorway. I won't budge – mostly because I have no idea what you are up to. All night long you've either teased or thrilled me and they've back to back so far in a steady pattern. The cute/girl comment settled with a thrill. Now we're on tease.

"Well, if you can't be responsible…"

That is so dirty, but it fits the pattern. Fine, if you want to play that way I'm game. So I respond, aiming for your chosen word, "And I can't trust that you…"

The deep, black color of your eyes hardened as you narrowed your gaze in a display of irritation. Point for me. Not fun when it's _your_ irritation is it?

A brief staring contest begins as we glared back at each other. You hoped I would surrender – apologize for my words. You should know better. I never apologize; especially not for something this unfailing accurate. Besides I've let you manipulate me all night long. You were asking for payback sooner or later.

Using your commanding tone to break the silence, "Tomorrow, one. You'll be at my office ready."

Replying in my best flippant tone, "Four. You know you're gone at one." Ah, I do miss our bartering days. You'd tell me to do something, I'd say no, and we go back and forth until I'd do what you asked with a new price tag attached. This was just like old times. I had to suppress a rising smile. You knew I didn't respond well to commands.

Sighing, "Two."

"Three, no earlier if you want it legible." I watched you think it over. My penmanship has been a great bargaining chip over the years.

"Fine, three, but it had better be typed and have coherent explanations."

I grin back at you. "Aren't they always."

" 'They suck' is not an explanation."

"Picky aren't we?"

"Fullmetal."

Okay, I get your cue loud and clear. If I push you any further, you'll actually be angry. "Alright! Just go already before I let Scruffy out."

"Like I'm frightened by a moving bath mat."

"A bath mat that bites." I flash my trademark mischievous grin. Really, Scruffy would probably lick you to death before anything else. Even if he didn't like you.

You're still standing at my doorway. Aren't we done here? Wondering why in the hell you're still waiting at the door, I leave the living room to walk over to you. Whatever it is doesn't seem like it could be settled from across the room.

And why shouldn't I? I've been following you all around my apartment tonight anyways. Standing before you once again, you reach out to caress the left side of my face again. Is this going to be a thing with you? I mean I guess it isn't bad.

You lean in to press a soft kiss against my cheek and whisper "later" into my ear before you leave.

Oh, so you wanted to say goodbye. That was nice. I realize I'm about as giddy as a girl with her first crush and feel a renewed hatred for the word "cute".

I waited in the doorway until the sound of your car's engine drifted away. Closing the door behind me and locking up for the night, I felt strangely energetic. True, the myriad of emotions I managed to run through in one day was impressive, if not exhausting, but I don't feel it. I reach up to experimentally touch the place your hand was a moment ago. An act that sends a feeling like no other into my system. Like I just discovered the missing key to a stagnate research project.

It's the only other time I've felt anything like this before.

The faint sounds of scratching at a door coupled with muted whines draws my attention to the Kennel. I really need do to something about them. It is dusk outside. Too late to bother walking the dogs but still light enough that I needed to run off their energy before I could go to sleep. I let the dogs out of the room to run and give them free reign of the apartment. For the next few hours they could chase each other and play to their hearts content. It only seemed fair after neglecting their usual afternoon walk. I checked to see if the doggie door was open to the small backyard before heading into the kitchen.

I still had to create the very list you asked for and now was as good a time as any. After all, I have renewed my attempt to impress you, haven't I? Completely legible and well-versed explanations were naturally the order I needed to fulfill. Besides, with a quartet of dogs running rampant through the apartment and the thrill you sent through my system, there is no way I can do anything else. I'm wide awake letting the rush your touch makes dictate my mood.

The things you do to me.

The things I enjoy so much.

A/N: Major changes here! I think I better described/told how this chapter. The original was too vague for anyone else – I, of course, have known all along! Hope everyone out there still thinks it is better too.

*Need a charity? Visit nationalmssociety (dot) org for information on how you can help fight Multiple Sclerosis.


	4. Chapter 4

The Next Day

I had spent most of the night preparing for this day.

I hadn't meant to. Once I was satisfied with my reasons – all six revisions – I went to type it. And wasn't that fun? Every time I hit the wrong key I had to start over. It took forever to type because I knew better than anyone that I had to type one-handed. Typing with automail was akin to watching a tennis ball during a match – you were constantly whipping your head back and forth.

And then the dogs decided to "help".

The end result was that it was after midnight before the list and rationales were both typed and up to your standard – hopefully.

Satisfied that I was done – albeit tired and annoyed with that typing contraption but done – I longed for bed. The dogs were piled on top of each other in a slumbering, furry heap. I could finally go to sleep or so I thought.

My mind had refused to turn off and allow sleep to settle in. Every time I tried, something new would come to mind. Now that the task at hand was completed, I got to ponder your response. Was it good enough? Is it defined clearly – to military types that is. I did use the term "pointless research" because that was the best way to describe it. I guess I could have called it irrelevant… or would wasteful be better?

And then there was the biggest question of them all, how would you react? Your touch left me optimistic but history wanted to drag me down. On one hand you seemed to respond better to my self-improvements. On the other, your diction sucks and it tends to either hurt or confuse me. Then there was your tendency to touch my hair, my face. My sharp memory replaying those events to a startling clarity.

So my thoughts circled. I knew that I needed to stop. I needed to sleep, but it never worked. I was left in a permanent state where I was wide awake, frustrated, and nervous all at the same time.

And maybe a little hungry.

But not sleepy – not in the least.

This one stupid meeting at three o'clock and I'm a complete wreck.

I spent the subsequent morning mulling over events that had not even happened yet. Again. And now that I'm on the way to your office, my anxiety grows exponentially. I needed to calm down and repeat everything I rehearsed about sixty times last night during my fruitless attempts to sleep.

I really hate this – this unsure feeling.

But if you smile my way I know this feeling will dissipate completely – replaced by something better. I'll forget about this uneasiness – about everything that built up to this moment. One positive action nullifies an entire night's worth of apprehension.

It's an unbalanced equation. It needs to be set right, logically. To even out the sides so that they are equal once again.

So why does it work when it is unbalanced?

Was that the reason for last night? To let me know I don't have to feel like this anymore – to fret over the state of unbalanced equations. You should know that wouldn't work for me. I really don't know how to act or what to do. I'm second guessing everything – struggling desperately to say or do the right thing. Hoping that it _is_ right. I hate that I'm doing that but I can't stop.

By the time three o'clock rolled around, I was staring at the door marked "Brig. Gen. Mustang". The placard was rather pretty, marked in bright, gold lettering set against a black background. The lettering was good too – very precise. It reminded me of my school teacher back in Resembool. Her handwriting always looked exactly like it did in the books. My eyes moved to examine the wood of the door when it swung open.

"Oh, hiya Chief!" Havoc's voice could have carried across mountain tops at that volume.

Caught, I had to make it look good. "Hey, Havoc just dropping in."

"Second time this week. That's a little odd for you."

Grinning and scratching the back of my neck in a reflexive way to alleviate my nervousness, "Uh, yeah, well…"

"Lieutenant Havoc, don't you have work to do?" Ah, Hawkeye, my scary savior. "Edward, come in. I believe I actually have an appointment for you."

I watched Havoc consider a retort, realize the inherent danger, surrender, and walk pass me. It was times like this when I'm glad that Hawkeye has such a reputation.

"Yeah, I'm supposed to meet with Mustang."

She smiled sweetly at me. "He's on the phone right now so it will be a minute."

Hawkeye reorganized the already organized papers on her desk and glanced around the office. After spotting Breda, she shot him a stern look and I watched him stumble out of the office at record pace. Who knew he could move like that? So she wanted us to be alone – how strange. And uncomfortable. This can't be good.

Satisfied at the now empty status of the office, she began with a light, cheery tone completely contradictive to her usual frank manner, "So?"

I stared back at her in confusion. "So… what?"

Her cheery tone faltering a bit but maintained a brave front, "What's going on?"

"With…" All these vague, leading questions. What was her aim?

Her pleasant expression fell. Whatever her aim was she clearly had hoped to avoid spelling it out. Dropping back to her usual forthright demeanor, "With you and the General."

Ah, so that explains the cheery tone and evasive questioning. Time to redirect. What other option do I have? It's not like I even know what is going on between us. I mean I think I know. We did say we liked we other, but… yeah, sorry, Riza. "Oh that! I'm trying to fire a few peo…"

"Not that, I already know about that." Her clipped tone cut me off and signaled the end to her patience with gentle prying. "I mean what's going between you two _personally_."

Oh, shit. She was zeroing in and I don't have an answer. At any other time, I would talk to her about awkward social stuff. But this time… this time I may be treading on her territory. Even I could figure out that she cared for you. In what way, no one knows. I blinked back at her and wondered if I could pull off a vacant expression.

She seemed to take my pause as a non-response. Something she wasn't particularly happy about either. "The other day he guided you into his office; maybe _escort_ is a better description."

I felt my face heat up at the remark.

"And there's that reaction from you again." She waited a moment to see if I was going break down and confess. With nothing from me she continued, "Then, you fled out of the office after your meeting with him. Ordinarily I wouldn't think twice about it, but then the General unexpectedly leaves shortly thereafter – ignoring my threat to shoot him. Later, he returns grinning like he had just stolen another of Havoc's would-be-girlfriends."

So you were smug about that. 'Too far too fast', my ass.

"And whenever I checked up on him for the rest of day, he seemed to be considering something. Normally, whenever I catch him wasting time like that he acts like he was doing something important; when we both know he wasn't. But yesterday… it was just different. Like the distraction was really important. Then, this morning, he arrives _on time_ and tells me he has a meeting with you at three this afternoon. When I'm the one who does his scheduling. So, I repeat, what's going on?"

Riza's tone was nothing short of a demand. A quiet, scary demand that if anyone else heard it would swear it was merely a question. I tried to think of a response when I heard the phone slammed down onto its hanger in the other room. Quickly followed by a long, angry, muddled commentary.

And you thought I had an extensive vocabulary in cursing.

So you were off the phone now, but I still had to give an answer to Hawkeye. I don't know what to tell her. Should I just say what I think this is?

"Edward? Please talk to me."

I hated the pleading tone she made – it's like Al. When all demands and shouting failed, that tone broke my every last resolve. It made me want spill every ounce of information I had and quickly. I could feel the mixture of worry and guilt grinding its way around my stomach making me sick. Making me feel as if I had wronged the other in some grievous, unforgivable way. I want to tell her. I do. But…

"Well…"

I don't know if fortunate is the right word, but you decided to break up the conversation Hawkeye and I was having. Your door swung wide open and you leaned out bracing yourself on the doorframe.

"Lieutenant! Have you seen… Fullmetal, I was wondering if you were going to show up."

I stood there in front of Hawkeye's desk rooted. My eyes widen and the urge to run like hell ran through my thoughts like a news ticker. I missed the you from last night – the one who still irritated me but made up for it so nicely. Now you were just… well, acting like a General. I hate this side of you.

There nothing redeeming about it.

Gathering my thoughts, I managed a normal response in order to ease Hawkeye's suspicions, "Well, I said three, didn't I?"

I watched a predatory grin find its way to your face. So there you are.

"You did. Come in."

I began to walk towards the door when I felt Hawkeye's hand deftly grab onto my shirt's hem with a light tug. She gave me a false smile – and that's always bad. "Later, okay?"

"Uh, sure."

Quickly escaping Hawkeye's grasp, I followed you into your office watching that confident walk you've always possessed. Has there ever been a time when you weren't? Even last night, you were in complete control and I was so lost. And did that skirt-thingy have to be a part of the required uniform? What the hell does it do?

After you resettled behind your desk, and I was in my customary place fidgeting in front of your desk, I began to wonder if what I had prepared was enough. For the umpteenth time today. Last night's wasted effort circled back with renewed strength.

You know, this – I don't know – thing between us is grating at me. It's always been present but now I can't take it anymore. I hate second guessing myself. I hate being unsure. I hate not knowing. I hate wondering if this was the right action – the right phrase. And above all else, I hate this unbalanced feeling you create in me. It's like you practice it before I even arrive. Just look at a few moments ago. You come out stern, formal and all General-like then suddenly switch gears to personal and smile _that_ way.

Before all this, I knew what to do. I was as confident as you always seem. I knew that my actions were right. Okay, so that's not entirely true. But I mostly knew. You have confused me more than anything and you seem to enjoy it.

"So, let's see it."

"Huh?"

You let out a small laugh again as an amused smirk spread across your face. "There really is only one way to keep your attention."

I didn't think my face could get this hot. How can words bring back such a feeling? The feeling of you holding me – touching me. With such clarity.

"The list of names. I can't believe that you actually supplied military accepted rationales."

I dropped my head to look into my bag to dig out the list – glad once again for my too long bangs. I knew I should retort back at you for that indignant remark, but… I was lacking any sense of conviction. Not with my face this hot. Instead, I focused on finding the freaking paper I spent all night typing. I really need to work on my organizational skills. I'd thought to bring in examples of the less than stellar work I wanted to eliminate. At the time, I believed this to be a brilliant move. To show you how embarrassing it was for the rest of us. Now, that my list of names and rationales are blended in with copies of this crappy work – it was only serving to make it harder to find my list.

This is taking a really long time.

Why is it that the most important things are the hardest to find?

Finally!

"Uh, here." I reached across your desk to hand the sheet of paper over to you. Normally I'd throw it, but… I was renewing my efforts. I was rewarded for my better behavior when we touched for the briefest of moments. Nothing more than passing contact and it sent a rush of heat like no other through my body.

This hold you have on me. Can I ever have the same hold on you? Probably not. I know that this is most likely a fleeting – I don't know romance? That sounds wrong. Ugh, focus. "The most common problem is sloppy results, which I defined for you as falsified/fictitious results. This can be proven by the inability to reproduce similar results using the same experiment. This fact should be noted in their performance file."

And there it was. I had practiced that last night so many times I was probably mumbling it in brief periods of rest. But it paid off, that was perfect!

"Hmm… what's the definition of pointless research?"

I was worried you wouldn't like that one. "That would be… research that was clearly written in order to only secure funds. For example…" I dug around in my bag for a moment looking for the right piece of crappy research in a pile of crappy research. "Here. This study looked into the backlash effect of transmuting gold which is illegal." Not that I haven't done that myself.

Your lips formed a genuine, amused smile at my example. Making me unexpectedly proud. I had actually laughed at it in the library. Out loud.

"And therefore cannot be researched. This is good. I can actually present this." The level of surprise in your voice deflated my momentary pride.

Didn't we talk about this late night? The disappointment in your words from years ago swelled in my memory. It hurt. I could hear the echoes of resentment rising in my own voice. My mind forming and endless tirade of fantastic insults just dying to escape. "I told you…"

"No need to get upset." You tried to play off the remark, "You don't usually make the effort to have your reports both understandable and legible."

"But I…"

That smirk reappeared on your face. "I wonder what changed."

Y-you were… but I was the… that's it. "You shit. You're such a smug, conniving bastard! I really…" I ran out of steam when I realized what you did. Everything clicked into place, making everything clear. You fucking tricked me! It was all there. The way you leaned forward on your hands, folded together with your chin resting on top, and that ever-present smirk on your face. Ever so carefully watching me. "Fuck you. I hate that just so you know."

The smirk widen into a pleased grin. "And that's why I think you're cute."

I really want to punch you. Why do you get such sadistic pleasure out of irritating me? Why the hell do I take it? I looked away toward the wall on the far right and crossed my arms over my chest. "Quit saying that."

"No, it suits you."

Aaand I've given you a new thing to annoy me with, haven't I? I can picture it now. Aw, calling Ed short isn't as much fun anymore. I know, I'll go with cute! "Why do enjoy pissing me off?"

You just grinned in response.

Yeah, figures. You never really do tell me anything. You seem to enjoy watching me struggle – trying to grasp concepts you already understand.

I'm suddenly very tired. "Are we done here?"

"Eager to leave?"

"I'm busy. And now I'm leaving."

I grabbed the bag weighed down by the example reports I brought in and turned to leave. I was trying to make a quick show of leaving in a huff since Hawkeye was already sensing that something was up. You never have liked my plans have you?

Sensing your presence was becoming a very useful skill. The warm touch of your hand on my left shoulder halted my forward movement. I closed my eyes to enjoy the small reassuring rub you began to make. So simple, but…

Hot air brushed over my neck as you whispered, "When can I see you?"

I almost dropped to the floor – my knees completely unprepared to bear my weight. My mind flooded with responses and naturally created nothing. Running my tongue to wet suddenly dry lips I managed, "H-how so?"

I could actually feel you smile as continued to nuzzle against my neck. "Ed, I want to start this. Do you know where I live?"

Do I know what! What do I say? "No."

"Is that a no to," your hands ran down my arms and tighten to lock me against your body, "_this_ or to knowing where I live?"

Leaning against you to further close the distance between us, "To knowing where you live. Why are you asking this?" You feel so right.

"I thought you should know. How about Thursday around a half past six?"

Your arms loosened their hold and fell away, leaving me longing for their warmth. Turning around to see where you went to, I saw you standing back at your desk. Well, I guess that it makes sense. You know where I live. I just wished you told me instead of walking away. "It's fine."

"Good, meet me here."

"Huh?" I walked back to distance to your desk to take the folded paper from your hand. You would live in a nicer part of town. "Okay. Anything I should know?" It was better to know in advance, but I doubt you'd really tell me.

With the smirk firmly planted on your face, "Not that I can think of."

I nodded in response and wondered if I had been set up. After all, I know about your reputation and I've seen proof of it. Hell, I just experienced it.

I filed away the query for a later time. No sense in taxing an already weary mind.

As I headed out of your office and into the outer office, I realized that I had been trapped for the second time today. Hawkeye stood leaning against the wall beside the door I had just opened.

Quickly shoving the paper you gave me into my pocket, I gave out a startled, "Hello."

She moved her hands to signal for me to shut the door. I considered my options and decided that obeying her for the moment wouldn't hurt.

Once I had the door shut, "What's with the ambush?"

"I told you we'd talk later, so sit." She pointed to an empty chair beside her desk.

"Uh, I can't now. How about later?" Or never. Never works for this particular subject.

She eyed me suspiciously, "Okay… tonight. Meet me at Kate's at six."

"Uh, I don't…"

"Are you busy tonight?"

Not tonight. I never have plans. Having plans for the evening required one to have personal – not professional - friends or dates. I had neither. Well, then there was Thursday. "Not really."

"Then six."

"Yeah, sure." I tried to sound hopeful despite the feeling of dread consuming my mind.

Only once I finally escaped the confines of the office, and breathed the free air of the hallway, did I understand just how much my life has changed. A few days ago, I barely made contact with anyone around me with the exception of the visits from Kain to see the dogs and the occasional lunch with Riza. Now, I have what can only be described as a social life.

While it's nice to have something to do for a change, I'm not sure I like where this is headed.

Publicly, I portrayed a very outgoing personality, but, in reality, I had never been an overly social person. Most of the time, it was just me and Al. We had established a mutual understanding between us that suited us both well. We knew the boundaries – when to push and when to back off. Even when I was with him all of the time, it didn't seem suffocating like it did with a lot of other people. It was nice.

Now, I don't know. I do like Riza and I certainly… better not get started there. It's just so confusing not knowing where I stand – what to say. I'm continually at a loss. It's frustrating a hell. It makes me miss Al.

I returned home to be greeted by a quartet of yapping dogs. Two of them were leaving today, the light brown one and the white one – I never bothered to name them. Kain was stopping by around five to a half past five tonight to get them. I looked at them both and realized that they really needed a bath. How did they get so dirty? I kept everything else clean.

I was fortunate enough to have a single story apartment with a small yard attached. Nothing really – but large enough for me to chase the dogs around outside to take their baths. I had removed/killed most of the plant life long ago – a fact that the landlord is going to love finding out. Now it was just a square of grass jointed onto a small patio for shade. It was more like a square of unused living space that was placed between the second bedroom and kitchen. It was entirely possible that it was once a third bedroom or den.

Still, it got a decent amount sun and had a faucet connection outside. That was all I needed. Plus, it gave the dogs a place to run outside when I was away, since I had placed in a doggie door of sorts next to the doorway outside. Alchemy can do wonders for home remodeling.

After fighting with the dogs to get them washed and then dried off, I was ready for a shower of my own. As I put the supplies away, I watched them roll around in the wet grass and wrestle around with each other. A sight that is quite funny for pint sized dogs, but also readily explained how they got so dirty. Drying them off again, I chased them back into the house and away from the grass before the white one turned green.

After the necessary shower, I searched my ever organized room for something suitable to wear for my dinner/interrogation with Riza. A brief dig through the pile of 'presentable' clothing turned up a pair of dark blue denim pants and the rejected black tank top from yesterday.

Clothing decided upon, I became deeply engaged in a game the dogs were quite fond of called "hide my shoes" when Kain arrived. He usually looks so worried or nervous, but for some reason animals brought out a different side to him. Like today. The person on my doorstep wasn't flustered, or staring intently at his shoes, but energetic.

"Hi, I'm here to get Jackie and Cliff. They're ready, aren't they?"

He's so demanding when it came to them. "Look for yourself."

I continued to search for the missing boot as Kain inspected the dogs. He picked them up and methodically inspected the two looking at their fur, paws, breath. It is really amazing how through his investigation was. Finished, he patted the remaining two on the head. "Thank you for giving them a bath, but…"

Here it comes, I always forget something on Kain's dog care list.

"Jackie needs her nails cut. They're far too long."

Gathering all the sarcasm I could muster, "Oh, pardon me."

"I'm just letting you know. I trust you with these guys and I want to make sure that they're cared for."

"Hey, it's free care and they're off the street. Even my degree of dog care is better than what they had." Honestly, you'd think I was locking them in cages and leaving them in a dark room for days on end. Nails. Who cut the dog's nails when it was a stray?

"True, it's just that… well I worry… I want…"

Kain's broken speech heralded an introduction to his more nervous and submissive self. I've been told repeatedly that my blunt manner of speech scares the crap out of some people. My response to this complaint was for the offended individual to grow a backbone but that hadn't gone over well. "Kain relax. I'm frustrated right now. Pack up Jack and… what did you call the other one?"

"It's Jack-_ie_ and Cliff." Ah, so he can be huffy about the dog's gender.

"Yeah, whatever. Just pack them up and send them on their way. I have to be somewhere." I paused for a moment as my conscious whined in a tone that sounded an awful lot like Al, 'Brother'. Oh fine. I kept a small cabinet of dog supplies near the backyard door. I dug out the doggie nail clipper and handed it over to Kain which was as much of an apology as you can expect.

Now where in hell have they taken the boot?

Kain frowned at my brush off, but appreciated the gesture. He went to work on the white one's nails. Once the clipping ceased, he began to straighten up the animals once again for delivery. In a tone that was meant for me to hear despite my exit from the main room, Kain asked Scruffy how he can put up with me. Being Scruffy he probably just tilted his head and panted. I think the dog finds human speech strange at times and other times I think he completely understands.

Locating the errant boot at last, I walked back out to see Kain off and get ready to head out myself. "So, all set?"

Back to his upbeat self, "Yep."

"You haven't found any more have you?" Please tell me that Kain's personal goal of saving every homeless dog has come to a point.

"No, why? Do these guys bother you?"

"Not really. It's just that four is quite a bit, you know?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry it took so long this time." His eyes cast downwards again as if I had reprimanded him.

"It's alright, but try not to do it again." Please don't tear up. I'm not being mean. I just want to place a limit, since it's hard to care for that many dogs.

"Oh, okay. I'll go drop these guys off."

I shut the door after Kain's departure and breathed a sigh of relief. He can be such a handful to deal with – just like Al. He was so sensitive at times. Still, two dogs were much easier to deal with. And the place should be a bit cleaner. I made a mental note to spend some time tomorrow fixing the place up.

Glancing at the standing clock, it read a quarter 'til six. I better get moving. You are never late to a meeting with Hawkeye – with Riza it is a different story.

Riza and I would sometimes plan lunch "dates" to get away from everyone else and catch up. We made a strange pair since she was so disciplined and orderly and I'm… well, I'm not. But she made a great person to confide in for those very qualities. However, I don't think this meeting is with Riza, but Hawkeye. Hawkeye is the scary, strict Lieutenant that made even higher ranking officers than her fear her – you included. Because of this, I'm nervous about this little meeting.

Fortunately, the café wasn't too far from home and I made it there just as the clock tower struck six. Hawkeye had already arrived and taken a table along the side of the café where the noise from the front door was more muted.

"Hey, Hawkeye." Her lips pulled downwards a little at the name. Maybe this was a meeting with Riza.

Her tone light and informal, "Hello, Ed. Please sit."

The softer tone of voice and the use of 'Ed' confirmed that this was a meeting with Riza. I felt substantially more relaxed. Pulling out the chair to sit, "So, what's up? Don't we usually do this at lunch?"

She smiled at the comment. "I know, but someone didn't show until three this afternoon. I wanted to discuss this away from the office."

"Then why did you…"

She waved her hand as if mentally brushing my comment aside. "I know, I know. I wanted to know what's going on and the secretaries had me riled up from lunch."

"What did they do?"

"Oh, I overheard their conversation in the cafeteria and overreacted. They were talking about how…," she quickly scanned the café, "the General wasn't acting like himself. I guess one of them went on a date with him, but he seemed distracted. The one that dated him, I assume, said that he wasn't at all like she'd thought he'd be."

The waitress came by to deliver two cups of tea. Riza must have placed the order before I arrived. I waited for the girl to leave. "So, what's the big deal? This isn't like you at all."

"I know, but they mentioned specific things like how he'd forget her name, or he wasn't paying attention to her. Then, I thought about you and your interaction with… _him_ and it just sparked some suspicion. Back to the reason we're here, what were you going say back at the office?"

"That… um, well, you see." I knew that I was fumbling for words, but I wasn't sure how much I should tell her. Amazing how easy it is to be wary when guilty tones aren't eating away at your conscious.

"Ed, you know you can trust me."

What is up with this trust thing? First, you were going on about trust and now Riza? "I know. It's just that… well, this is different than what I usually talk about."

"How so?"

I was making Riza pry the answers from me without meaning to. I knew it was frustrating but… I decided to be daring, "Um, well, what's your relationship with… him? Is that what we're going by?"

"That would be best."

I waited for her to continue, but she remained silent. "You're not going to answer that?"

"No, I was just thinking about how to word it."

"Sounds like you're buying time."

She gave me an insulted look before answering, "I'd say that beyond being his babysitter and bodyguard… that I… possess a level of concern for him."

I watched her take a sip from her cup. She seemed content with that response. "If that's all you're giving me, then I don't have much to say."

She set the cup down and placed a frustrated look on her face. "Ed…"

"Look, you're asking for some rather personal information. So, either you talk or we're done here." I needed to know where she stood with you. If this was her territory… I didn't know what I should do. Back off?

She let out a heavy sigh and stared intently at her cup swirling the contents. I took the opportunity to drink from mine as well – barely tea quite appropriate for a summer evening. After a short while she started, "Fine. I'm loath to admit it, but I've always seen him as a sort of stupid older brother. I worry about him. More than I should in fact."

Now wasn't that interesting. I knew that there was a connection between them, but I was afraid of what it was. If it had been, well similar to my connection with you, then… I really don't like the obvious choice. After all, she has a longer history with you than I do. I bet she knows more about you too. It would have been the only right thing to do.

But now that I know it isn't.

Feeling the weight of worry lift from my mind, I could actually think about what to do next. I guess I could tell her. My brain feels like it is on overdrive. There has been too much happening today and on too little sleep.

"Well, Ed, tell me."

I played with my hands for a moment and watched a few other customers. There was a little girl with a large, stuffed teddy bear standing at the counter with her mother. An elderly couple wasn't too far from us and probably the closest customers to us in the café. So, is it safe to tell her?

I looked back at her. She looked so disheartened just waiting there – looking like I didn't trust her.

Oh, alright!

Letting out a sigh, "Listen, you can't tell this to anyone."

I've never seen her perk up so quickly. Her brown eyes widened in interest as she leaned forward on the table so that I could speak in a lower tone.

"It all started back when I was working on the new test format."

"The one that just went to the review board?"

"That one. You remember that I went to talk to him about the status of test?"

She nodded in response.

"Well he started to treat me… differently. Before he would keep me away, but now… he actually began to touch me."

She suddenly sat back in her chair and her eyes amazingly large.

I realized that this was the wrong impression, "Not like that!"

The elderly couple turned to look in our direction as well as a few other customers. I smiled and waved at them before motioning for Riza to lean forward again. "Like at the office."

"Oh, the whole '_escort'_ thing."

Oh, yes, I'm so glad that she continues to refer to that incident that way. "Shut up. And yes. He started being nice to me – it was weird. Then, well… then that day when I talked to him about the test things changed even more."

We both looked around one more time and probably drew more attention to ourselves for it. Amazing how terrible we are at covert conversation when it is for personal – not military – reasons.

I continued, "Remember how he left shortly after that meeting and returned smug?" She smiled at the description and nodded. "He followed me to the library and… well, he… he kissed me."

"What!"

I didn't expect Riza to make such a reaction.

With the word echoing in my ears, I gave another greeting to the people around us. I nodded at Riza for us to take our leave before we were asked to. She quickly gathered up her things as I paid off the small bill. We rushed out of the café to small congregation area. There were several throughout Central. Just small patches of land decorated with trees and shrubs and benches available for sitting. I think the papers referred to their creation as part of the City Beautification Project.

She pulled me aside to a more remote area heavily shaded by trees and selected a bench to sit on. "Wait, let me get this. He kissed you – the biggest womanizer I have ever seen or know – _kissed_ you."

"Why is that so hard to believe?" I felt a little hurt at that comment.

"Because it's R… _him_."

"Well, then let me finish."

"There's more."

"Yep."

"Continue," her tone astonished.

"That same day he came over to my place… don't give me that look." Riza had started to make a sour face and scooted a bit back from me in a show of distaste. "To _talk_." She visible relaxed. "He wanted to date me."

Riza apparently did not believe this either. "Date you?"

Exasperated, "YES."

She shifted her head to the right side with a quizzical look and unwittingly imitated Scruffy. "Go on."

"Then, this afternoon we made plans."

As if to confirm my statement, she asked, "For a date."

I nodded.

"With him."

I nodded again.

"You sure about that part?"

"Yes, what's with you? You drag me out here forcibly and then act like I'm lying to you. Why would I?"

"It's just rather incredible don't you think?"

I shrugged, then with a small pout, "It's not that strange."

She turned to give me her profile and seem to absorb all of the information I had just given her. I feared the worse as Riza quickly sorted through the provided information. I've always said she can be frightfully insightful.

Apparently satisfied with her conclusion, she turned back to me which her eyes wide in the clearest display of elation I had ever seen. "Oh, I see. Not many people get to actually date their first crush."

I felt the blush rising on my face and I quickly dropped my head to hide behind my hair. I mumbled back, "Shut up."

She laughed, "You're so cute. I got it exactly right, didn't I?"

From beneath my hair, I mustered up all of the fury I could. "I'm not cute!"

She moved to get closer to me and waited for me to raise my head up so I could look at her eye to eye. Her tone soft almost motherly, "Are you sure about this?"

I started to look away.

"Edward?"

Hesitantly, I made my response. "I-I think so."

"Okay then." She moved closer to my left side and placed her arm over my shoulders to give me a slight hug by tugging me towards her body. "If he tries anything, tell me about it and I'll shoot him."

Was she really approving of this? She seemed to accept what I had told her. She didn't seem bothered by the obvious at all, which was really weird. I had thought that some comment would be made about gender, but… Maybe Riza is more open-minded than I thought. In that case, maybe she can help me out a bit. I'm so socially stupid it's ridiculous. Plus, a woman should know what kind of tricks you might pull.

I smiled and laughed at the thought, "Okay."

"Well then, it looks like I'm going to need to give you some ground rules on dating."

A/N: Review!

*Need a charity? Visit nationalmssociety (dot) org for information on how you can help fight Multiple Sclerosis.


	5. Chapter 5

Thursday

I tried to spend the day as normal as possible.

As luck would have it, I spent most of the morning deeply engrossed in the library. My version of the alchemy exam had been returned bearing a number of comments – written in red ink. I guess some people didn't like the fact that I had removed some key questions. So, I was busy with version number two.

When noon rolled around, however, Havoc interrupted my intensive focus. He delivered a note from you.

He said it was "official business".

Yeah, right.

Still, the effect that a single sheet of paper held was phenomenal. After I was sure Havoc left, I checked over my surroundings before opening the note:

Remember 6:30 tonight

Oh, I had remembered alright. I couldn't help the smile that found its way to my face. Neither could I stop the growing sense of nervousness that had taken residence in my gut. It had been building in me since that day. The day you asked me out.

My talk with Riza had eased my mind a little bit. But, then, I went and over thought everything.

How do I act?

What should I do?

What should I say?

What are you expecting?

And so much more.

When posed even larger questions – questions I was afraid to name. What was safer but . . . what if I was making too much of this? What if I wasn't?

It was so difficult to know.

Riza said to me that the best way to go into this was to be normal – don't do anything that I wouldn't normally do. But for me that wasn't too much help.

Did you want the me that you've known about since I was twelve? Or the one you've just begun to know? Which one did I want to be? Which one did I want you to know?

Normal. Just act normal.

I ended up contemplating the idea until four o'clock. Not that this wasn't anything new to me. I've lost entire days rolling questions and ideas around in my head before – well that was only recently. Before, I would just let my mind wander off until Al shouted that we were at our stop, the restaurant was closing, it was raining . . .

By surrendering Al, I had let go of my safety net. I was really on my own.

So, now I needed to act on my own too. Tonight would be a major step. I wouldn't run ideas by Al or ask him what he thought like I usually did for any and all social occasions. This was completely on me.

Which also means that if I crash and burn, it is completely on me as well.

Great.

By five o'clock I had made it home, given the dogs some exercise at the park, and completed any other small chores for the night. Of course in doing so, I now had two restless animals running back and forth through the apartment like a child hyped up on caffeine. Likewise, I was hoping that all of this energy would soon burn out and they would sleep – for a long time.

By six o'clock I knew I needed to leave – now. After going through my entire closet, I determine that both you and Al are right. Not that I was going to actually admit that to either of you. I needed clothes that weren't black and weren't designed solely for travel. Maybe something a little bit dresser. But given the time, I was going to have to make do with what I had.

It also didn't help that you had given me no idea about what was going to happen tonight.

If we went somewhere nice . . . well I don't have anything for some place nice. If I went with something comfortable, like something short sleeved thanks to this heat, then my arm can be seen. Would that bother you?

Would that bother me?

So, something long sleeved. But the weather has been warm. So, a short-sleeved shirt? But then my arm . . .

I hate this.

Then again, maybe your plans were based on how I showed up – I wouldn't want to embarrass you.

In the end, I had decided on something casual, but nice. According to Riza, I was supposed to be normal so this is normal. Okay, better than normal. I had found a red, short sleeved shirt that was made from some nice material. I didn't know what the hell it was, but I remember Al giving it to me saying that it was better than the usual. After all, button-up shirts were . . . well it just wasn't going to happen with me. Let's put it this way, stick a gardening glove on your right hand and try to button up one of those shirts. Somewhere around the fifth try your ready to curse the shirt in every language you know – and some you don't. Thanks to this very reason, I still don't wear the military issued uniform. Still, the red shirt was nice. It felt soft to the touch.

I had also located a nicer pair of pants that I usually didn't wear. They were, surprisingly, black leather. But they were made from a softer leather – maybe a calf or lamb. This made them a little less snug, but extremely comfortable.

The black boots I selected were similar to my usual, but bore less wear and tear. After all, I need my height. Granted you aren't all that tall yourself. With a few more inches, these boots would place me at about shoulder level. Not the best, but acceptable. Most girls you date reach that height.

Did I want to be compared to that?

I shook my head before traveling too far down that path.

I had thought that clothing was difficult, but I ended up playing with my hair for quite some time too. Up or down, up or down? I knew that you liked to play with my hair. You seemed to touch it every chance you got. So, down?

But it is warm . . . that means up. I'll put it in a ponytail, so that it is kinda loose.

What if you wanted it down? Maybe you were expecting that.

So, then I should leave it down.

But then I'll be hot.

Once again, I decided on my comfort – seeing as I was uncomfortable enough already. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail. I figured that if you really wanted it down the hair tie could be removed.

All in all, I didn't look too different.

That was okay, wasn't it?

I said goodbye to the dogs and locked the front door. If it wasn't for the fact that I had a long walk ahead of me, I might have gone back inside – to change something else.

I hope that this was okay.

Forcing the thoughts from my head by repeating your address over and over in my mind, I managed to move forward.

Soon I was standing before your . . . house? A nice house. Granted, I have a nice apartment, but how did you get a house? Aren't there married couples with children living in small apartments? But you have a house.

I bet you have a housekeeper and a gardener too.

I shook my head from side to side. Okay enough of that. I won't say smartass comments. I won't try to piss you off. I'm good at it, but I won't try to. I will show you that I'm an adult. I will be nice. I will . . . I will . . .

The three cement steps that led up to your door managed to send anxious jolts from my stomach to my throat with each step – increasing with each step. The result? My mouth felt dry and I licked my lips out of habit. I swallowed reflexively to force the feeling back down. Without too much thought, I lifted the silver door knocker to let you know I was here.

Did you know that I counted to 67 before you answered?

I was surprised when you said, "Hello, Edward."

Off in my own little world again. "Hey."

I felt so awkward. I kept looking every which way to avoid any direct eye contact.

A soft laugh from your direction finally focused my attention back to you. "Nervous?"

"Ah, ha." The telltale warmth rising to my face gave me away. I had been so consumed about presenting myself right I hadn't considered this. What were you supposed to say get the conversation going? How do we act like . . . like boyfriends? I don't know if that was the right word.

We spent so many years insulting each other – pretending to be at each other's throats. How do we switch over?

Can this really work?

I want it to so much, but . . . are we too different? Have we played the part of enemies for too long?

I moved back down the steps to allow you room while you locked the door. Taking a moment to recollect myself, I finally allowed myself to really take this in. To see what was really important. You were spending your free time with me when we both know you could be elsewhere – easily.

Plus, you looked really good. I was glad I had gone fairly casual and comfortable. As per your usual, you wore a pale blue, button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to your elbows. The color contrasted nicely against the black pants you wore.

Did I ever mention how much I like black?

"Like what you see?"

I instantly felt my face flush. You make me do that too easily. "I was just thinking that I'm glad I didn't try to dress up."

You came down the steps so easily – practiced through routine. Placing your right arm over my shoulders, you pulled up against my left side. It was such a strange feeling to simultaneously experience anxiety, worry, and thrill at the same time. It made me a little tired.

Speaking in a low tone you added, "Me too." After releasing the half-hug you gave me, you walked just a few steps ahead of me. Then, you turned to glance over your shoulder to see me rooted in place at the foot of your doorstep. "Walk with me?"

I shot my head upright to look at you directly. I let a smile find its way to face before I moved to catch up. Thank you for understanding. "So, where to?"

You laughed again, "Nowhere in particular."

Nowhere indeed. We ended up walking around some of Central's business plazas window shopping if something looked interesting and talking. I couldn't believe how well I had held up. At first, most of my responses had been somewhat jumbled and centered around 'uh', 'yeah', 'um', or the like. But it didn't take long before it seemed so easy between us.

Naturally, we started discussing work first since we shared that already. We shared and joked about the stories we knew regarding the famous Mustang lackeys – myself included at times. I talked about some of the on-goings around Central that I knew you weren't aware of. I never had heard you laugh so openly when I asked why people think libraries are a good place to exchange secrets. The hallways echo. When you began to tell me about some of the stuff that was happening up top, I must admit you surprised me there too. I couldn't help but feel like you trusted me.

When you asked about Al, I felt a small pang to my heart. I admitted that we've lost touch mostly because I wanted to – needed to. You forced me to be honest about it. There out on a busy street in Central, I explained why I let Al go. Perhaps the biggest shock to come from this, was that instead of feeling like crying, I felt relieved. Mostly it was due to the fact that you seemed to understand.

Then you told me how you understood so well.

I think I'm the first person you were honest with too – about Hughes. Funny how we both had someone supporting us from the shadows – letting us garner the attention. Even more ironic was that we both didn't have that support anymore. We were both acting without a safety net. But you had your support forcefully taken from you whereas I just let mine go.

In my mind, I thanked whatever force there was out there that I could let mine go. If I ever really wanted to find Al again, Rockbell Automail was a phone call away. Much better than a tombstone to talk to.

Since you were being so open, I asked about your family. I've always been interested in families. Perhaps because mine was taken away or because that bastard left Mom, Al and I so long ago. I liked to hear about others. Hughes' family had been one of my favorites. I never told Hughes that even though the barrage of photographs wore at my patience at times, I really loved it. I finally got to see how real fathers act.

I even told you all this.

You even told me about your family. I couldn't hold the joke back when you admitted that you too grew up in a farming community. "Country hick, eh?"

You grinned and said, "Shut up."

In another strange twist, I felt like I really got to know you. Not the version you presented at work, but you. Just like I was trying to show you who I really was. I couldn't help but remark at this discovery. It hadn't been too long ago when I hated being known as the short-tempered, milk-hating, genius of the military. And it was less than a few hours ago when I found out that you, too, hated being known as the skirt-chasing, lazy-yet-ambitious, high ranking officer you were deemed to be.

I guess we all have parts to play. I just didn't know it then.

When we came upon a small restaurant you liked, you asked if I was hungry. Of course I was – when wasn't I?

The dinner we shared had been simple enough but perfect for this night. Everything was low key and easy for me to adapt to. Part of me wondered if you had done this for my benefit. The other part wondered if your conniving side had planned this. This way if we ran into someone from the military you could claim that we were just friends – nothing special at all.

Since the night was going so well, I decided to ignore that suspicious thought. If it were true why would you confide in me like that? It would be too cruel.

Back at my apartment, I let you walk me to the door. Mirroring each other we leaned against the wrought iron railing that framed my door step. It all seemed so funny now – my frantic nervousness. The date had gone so well. I know I felt better about you. We sort of laid it all out in the open for each other to see.

And you didn't once comment on my arm. I guess I was worrying needlessly again.

Suddenly, I was thrown back to square one.

Stammering, I started, "So, uh, see you tomorrow?" I couldn't help it. I looked away – again. I know what I want, but how to ask?

When you didn't respond I look back at you. You smiled back at me. Your pose was relaxed, but your dark eyes were fixed on me. It made me want to hide behind my bangs again. I wasn't sure what I should do. What are you thinking?

I pushed myself off the railing to stand on my own. I was about to do something, but . . .

I hadn't realized that you moved too.

Maybe it was your experience or maybe you've done this to women before, but it was such a smooth motion. I hadn't realized a thing until . . .

Your hand touched the right side of my neck. Your thumb grazing my jaw line. You lightly pulled me toward you and I offered no resistance. I think I even made the few steps towards you to close the gap between us.

Your height forced me to look up, but for once I didn't mind. I could hear your breathing as you leaned in closer to me. Were you asking permission this time? Before, at the library and in my own living room, you had just assumed that I would let you. But now?

Not wanted to wait any longer, I ended the distance between us and lightly touched my lips to yours. I wasn't sure how to kiss or even how to begin one. I was thrilled when you took control. Maybe you knew I was inexperienced, but, at least now, you knew what I wanted. Your grip on my neck tightened as you applied more pressure to our chaste kiss. I could feel you change position so that you could tilt your head more to my left. All the while placing sweet, soft kisses.

Arching my back so that my arms could wrap around your neck, I felt our chests touch. You were breathing just as shallow as I was. To think just a few seconds worth of touching . . .

Your free hand moved down my back until it rest on my right hip. There you pulled me against you even tighter. Our hips aligned and I broke the kiss to let out a groan. Your body felt so good – so right.

I heard you let out a small laugh – perhaps you were pleased with yourself – before you kissed my parted lips. Shifting so slightly, as you teased my lower lip, I felt your hand release my neck to move into my hair. The tug at my hair was almost unnoticeable. I realized that you had removed the hair tie when I felt the long strands of hair fall around my shoulders. Your hand now cradling my head.

Regrettably, you moved your attention away from my mouth.

Thankfully, it was now fixed elsewhere.

At first, you just nuzzled against my throat causing me to shudder at the touch. It was so . . . well . . . possessive of you. A low moan escaped my lips when you playfully nipped my left ear then began to gently bite and lick small patches of skin. The hand in my hair making small, slow circles.

My grip on your shoulders tightened as I slanted my head more to the right to give you more room – just to let you know how much I liked it. I didn't know any other way. I couldn't trust my voice just now.

Once again you changed your position and to force me up against my own door. The hand that had been in my hair had applied just enough pressure to my right shoulder to get me to move backwards until my back hit the wood of the door. Faintly, I could hear the metallic lock giggle in place ensuring that the door would not give way.

You broke contact with me for this moment but you returned to nip at the joint between my throat and shoulder. I couldn't help but gasp for air. Each touch made my heart beat faster. My real hand touched the back of your neck feeling the short strands of black hair there while applying faint pressure to encourage your movements. The urge to part my legs echoed in my mind, but I didn't . . . I didn't want you to think . . .

As you placed the last kiss against my neck, the hand that held my shoulder left to pull my chin upwards – forcing me to meet you. There was no hesitancy this time. I could read it in your eyes before you reclaimed my mouth. You knew I wanted this. You knew I wanted you.

I gave myself away again.

Those damned yellow eyes.

You sealed our lips together and licked gently against my own. When I didn't open right away, I felt your hand at my hip move to squeeze my butt firmly. Surprise more than anything made me part my lips again.

I felt you grin before you pressed hard against my mouth sliding your tongue in. I groaned again. The pressure felt too good. I felt my arms slip off your shoulders lightly. My body felt so hot. My groin ached the more you touched me. I had lost most of the feeling in my legs – held up only by you.

I renewed my grip on your neck and dared to move my tongue against yours. The sensation of it all sent such pleasure through me. I don't want this to end.

You began to show me how to kiss this way. Encouraging me to push my way into your mouth. Feeling the incredible jolt when you began to suck on it.

Somewhere in this exchange I had felt your body press even more against my own. I finally had to break from you when you experimentally began to grind your hips against my own. I couldn't help it. Within the sound of my sharp intake of air, I called out your name – Roy.

My senses were completely overloaded. My body wound so tight that you could do whatever you wanted with me. I wanted to be yours. All you had to do was take me. I knew I was offering.

Placing another sweet kiss against my neck, I felt you begin to back away. My arms slid free from your shoulders once again and now hung nervously at my side. I feared the worst for a moment thinking I had messed this up completely. Had I acted like a slut? I felt the urge to hold myself against the worst. Instead, you allowed space to come between us before you came back towards me. You gripped the right side my neck making me tilt to your left slightly. With this renewed hold on me, you pulled me in once again for a hungry kiss. My lips parted easily letting your tongue renew its earlier exploration of my mouth. I moaned at the touch. My left hand found its way to your back.

I just need to touch you.

Soon, I felt you step back once more. Our kiss broken to reveal the sound of short pants for air. Taking advantage of my position, I leaned against the door.

What do I want?

It was obvious where this could lead. All I had to do was ask. Do you want to . . .

"Good night, Ed."

Your voice sounded rough. For once your eyes gave you away. You wanted to continue. You wanted me – now. So then why are you stopping? You must know I'm willing.

"Uh? Um, good night, Roy." I knew the sound of disappointment mixed with the confusion in my voice.

You paused just before the first step down to the street before turning back. Placing your mouth temptingly close to my ear, as I let my eyes close, you whispered, "Let's do this again – soon."

I felt my eyes reopen and widen, but this time no nervousness gripped me. I only felt anticipation.

"Sure."

How about tomorrow?

A/N: Review! Pretty, pretty please.


	6. Chapter 6

Getting Comfortable

I had been left feeling anxious for a repeat of Thursday night.

The more I thought about it, and what had happened, the more impatient I became. The urge to fidget or move or do anything at all ran through my mind all night long. My body ached, but . . . there was nothing I could do. I needed to . . . I wanted to . . .

It was a completely irrational and unexplainable feeling, but I didn't care.

Once again you've left me completely confused – without any sense of direction.

Does this mean you're going to move slowly? Do I have to let you know when I want to go further? Or are you going to decide? Granted I can always decide when to stop, but . . . do I know when I want to stop?

Do I even know what I want from all of this?

What is 'this' really?

The questions are piling up quickly and I don't have any answers. Worst of all this isn't something I can research to understand better. It is irrational. It is based in emotion.

I am completely out of my league here.

When Friday morning came, I found myself in a state of flux. I was exhausted from a sleepless night, but I wanted to see you – nothing more. At the same time, I happen to possess the most readable facial expressions known to mankind. If someone were to find out, I knew this would be over.

That thought terrified me more than anything. More than the nagging thought at the back of my mind that questioned why you suddenly picked me. Both were frightening for different reasons. One meant that you were using me for something I hadn't figured out yet while the other meant that our "relationship" of sorts hung on secrecy.

Either way led to pain.

Either way I was going to be the one hurt.

But you wouldn't do that – I know it. I realize that there is no rational basis for this conclusion, but you . . . you just wouldn't have shared so much. You wouldn't be that cruel. Not to me.

You wouldn't.

I know this.

Shaking the thoughts from my head, I looked over at Scruffy who gave a noncommittal whine. I wasn't sure what it meant. Scruffy was usually so good at telling me what he thought. So what did that mean?

Okay, enough. I'm done. My head hurts.

I can call you – around 11 o'clock. This meant I had most of the morning to give to the dogs. They were long overdue for some much needed attention.

I returned home around 10:30. I was tired from walking, i.e. chasing, two dogs. But being with them always made me smile. Animals have such an effect on people. Now I see why Al wanted to save every kitten.

I figured that enough time had passed and I could call in now without being too suspicious.

I was grateful that the military decided to give some personnel private phone lines in their homes. They were 'installed for the set purpose of allowing specialized personnel to work outside the boundary of headquarters in order to facilitate better working environments'. Or something to that effect. Basically, it meant that people like me who really didn't function in a military capacity were allowed to work from home. It also meant that I had a new phone in my home. If Winry ever found out about the phone's existence, I'm a dead man. She'll kill me for not calling to check up with her and Al.

But that's a whole different problem.

Right now I need to know how to ask for a second date. I'll worry about the rest later. Not the best idea, I know, but . . .

The Operator at Central answered the line taking me away from such thoughts. After going through a number of passwords and codes, I was finally able to reach you. Stupid military and their confidential lines.

"Hey, there General!" I figured that fit my expected style.

"Ah, Fullmetal. So what did you do this time?" You tone went from bored to sarcastic. You're lucky I'm beginning to understand you – I think.

"What could I have done in a few hours?"

"Given your track record . . . perhaps level, flood, or burn a few city blocks."

Too bad you can't see the blush heating my face. I know you think it's cute. So I was slightly destructive in my younger years, doesn't anyone ever forget my mistakes?

"Look," I placed a sharp edge to my voice and felt my teeth clench, "I haven't . . ."

You interrupted me in a soft whisper. So quiet I almost ignored it. "Ah, I missed it."

You really know how to deflate my rants. "What?"

"Red always suits you." You returned to your regular tone of voice – sounding so official.

"Yeah, well, I'm calling to let you know I'm working from home. That's all . . ."

"Checking in? You have grown up."

The blush that had been dying returned with a vengeance. Most of my face had to be red because it was so hot.

You continued, "Hmm, I missed it again."

"Sh-shut up! I was just . . ." Okay, I know that was childish and I'm desperate to avoid being confused for the child I was, but . . . well that's all I had. Something more eloquent escapes me.

"No need to get upset. I'm the one missing out on the fun."

I was about to reply, but I could hear someone else speaking to you. It sounded female, but too muddled to make out. I bet that Hawkeye was giving you your orders. I could loudly hear your response, however. "Alright, Lieutenant! I'll begin on that stack in a moment."

She must have said something back and, by your reply, I'd bet again that she knew I was the person on the other end of the phone. I heard you mutter "pestering female" into the phone.

I couldn't help it. I had to say it. "So, is she the reason?"

"Huh? Reason for what?"

"Thursday."

I could feel your wolfish grin through the phone line. "No, but she contributed into swaying me in that direction."

I laughed. Poor Riza. "You know she's just trying to keep you on track."

"Yeah, but she doesn't have to enjoy it so much. Is there anything else? I should get back to this . . ."

"Oh, yeah." Isn't there something about faint hearts not getting something? Basically be bold. I'm good at that. "I'm almost finished with the second version of the test. I know you hate to work weekends, but is there some time I could review it with you?"

Please catch my drift.

"Hmm, well the higher ups are anxious to complete the new test. They want to use it for the upcoming annual testing cycle in about two months. Perhaps, Sunday? That way I can get a finished copy to them on Monday."

Yeah, that sounded business-like enough. "Sunday's good. Is there any particular time or place? I could always just come by . . ."

"No, meet me at the First Branch front reception at one. I don't want to go looking for you."

Okay, maybe you didn't get what I was trying to ask. "Oh, okay, see you then."

"Good."

I hung up a bit confused. Was I meeting you or was I meeting the General? Maybe next time I should meet with you face to face. Oh well, I'm still seeing you on Sunday.

Now to solve the next problem.

I redialed Central's Operator and went through the hassle of code words once more. However, this time when the Operator asked who I was trying to reach, I replied Hawkeye.

I waited for the second ring when a sharp voice replied, "Brigadier General Mustang's office."

"Hi, Riza. Do you have a moment?"

"Hold on." I listened to the sound of papers being shuffled around. Riza came back to the phone with a much softer tone in her voice, "What's going on?"

"I was wondering when you would be free to talk?"

"Okay, is it too much trouble to wait until tomorrow? I'm not leaving this office until you-know-who actually finishes his work today."

I sighed a little into the phone. I was hoping for today. "No, that's good. Is he that far behind?"

"I didn't think so yesterday. But I found a pile of papers hidden behind his desk this morning and well you know the rest."

I laughed out loud at the visual image that came to mind. Hawkeye in her perfectly pressed uniform preparing the General's morning workload. Her expression neutral as she went about her morning routine. Then, just as she is finishing up she discovers a not-so-neat stack of papers on the floor nestled snugly against the hardwood desk. Her expression changing from neutral and officious to irritated and murderous.

Riza continued, "It's not funny. He acts like such a child sometimes. I don't think he did _anything_ yesterday."

By now I was laughing even harder because it had dawned on me what had happened yesterday. Maybe I'm doing better than I thought. I knew Riza wouldn't get the joke, but it was funny. Unfortunately, I think I pissed her off.

She replied with a curt, "It really isn't funny. Do you know . . ."

I had to cut her off before she got the wrong idea. "Please don't get mad – I know how important those papers are. I'll tell why it's so funny tomorrow. Just trust me for now that it is really funny."

I could hear the anger leave her voice. "Alright, I trust you. But it better be good."

"Oh, it is."

"Hmm. . . so where to?"

"Let's pick something easy. How about Panàe? They have an open air courtyard."

"Are you telling me I was too loud last time?"

"Hehe . . . just in case."

"See you then. Oh, is one good?"

"Yeah, see ya."

I hung up the phone and wondered if one o'clock was the official meeting time for the military. After I dismissed the thought, I decided to focus the rest of the day on the second draft of the test. After all, I'm supposed to have a near completed version for you on Sunday.

I met with Riza on Saturday as planned. She's always more fun to meet outside of work. Without the blue uniform on, she seems so normal. She smiles more easily and laughs. It's like the Hawkeye of Mustang's office only exists for the time between 8 to 5 pm Monday through Friday.

You stopped working weekends once you received your promotion to Brigadier General – said it was a perk.

But I kinda understand why she would do that. There aren't many women in the military. In fact I believe the ratio is 1:10 or 1:20 according to the last personnel count. Still, there's no doubt that Hawkeye ranks highly among men and women in the military. I often wonder if Hawkeye was created as a working personality. Someone she needed to be in order to get the job done.

A role to fill.

Either way, Riza was a great friend. As I've said before, she acts somewhat like a mother-figure, but, at times like this, she more like a big sister. Because you just don't talk to moms about this stuff.

We had taken the furthest table available in the restaurant's open air patio. Also the furthest table away from other customers. Riza had been very eager to hear what was so damn funny about the General's lack-luster work ethic. After I had explained the events of our first date to her, she suddenly understood the joke completely.

Riza had to clarify, "So that was Thursday?"

"Yep. That's why I wanted to talk to you on Friday."

She nodded her head. "And?"

"And what?"

"And you didn't tell me how you felt about it."

"Oh, me?" I let myself look away from her and fixate on the potted plant nearby. "I'd like it to happen again."

"Un huh."

I snapped my attention back at her. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing. It's just that men can be so easy to read."

I frowned back at her.

Riza continued, "_He_ can't work when there's something weighing on his mind. Not even if I threaten him. _You_ tend to try and hide because you know your facial expressions are completely transparent." Her voice softened, "But still . . ."

She wandered off on her thought.

"Hey! But still what?" I needed to know the rest.

"Well, it's a good thing. Not the fact that work isn't being done, but that you're both . . . different. It's hard to say," Riza gave a thoughtful pause. "Once you left Al behind and returned to Central, you became rather withdrawn. I was worried."

"You mean I'm some sort of 'pity' friend." I interjected.

"No, you just seemed so sad. Not at all like the Ed I remembered. But lately you've seemed to have returned to your old self. Not entirely but almost like your old self."

"You mean no outbursts at short jokes." I added.

"That, the loss of many swear words, your general demeanor . . ."

"Okay, I get it."

She smiled softly back at me. "It's hard to believe that you're all grown up. I feel a bit old."

Hey, I convinced at least one person I'm not a kid anymore!

She let out a small sigh. "But it's not just you. He's been different as well. The dating has been way down for about a year now and, even though I still complain, he has been more productive."

"That's probably because everyone is getting ready to pick a new Fuhrer. The wisdom of suspending the office hasn't been much of a success. Having a bunch of old men make group decisions has been worse than having a homicidal Fuhrer."

"Well, the last part is true. But I think his change can't be entirely explained by that. He's been better at work for far too long. Long before it was decided to renew the office of Fuhrer."

"Hmm." I glanced back over at the potted plant. I wasn't going to get much more out of her. I let out my next comment very quietly, "So, not even you know how to understand what he's thinking."

"No one knows what someone else is thinking until they ask. I thought we already went over this."

I looked down at the table top and let out a sigh. "I just don't know a lot of things. Not even how to ask."

"Just try, Ed. If he can't understand that you need to know then maybe this wasn't a good idea to begin with."

I let my mind wander back. The feel of your hands moving over my body, the pressure of your kiss, the welcomed feeling of short, gasping breaths. Could I question this away? "What if that's what I'm afraid of?"

Riza raised one eyebrow in question. "That it wasn't a good idea?"

"That and what happens when someone else finds out? Or why now? Why now after all this time? What is 'this' really?" I let out a frustrated sigh and felt a pressure begin to well in my eyes. "What if I can't handle it when 'this' ends?"

I kept my head down afraid to see Riza's response. I had let out some of the most frightening questions because if I didn't . . . if I didn't I'd just keep worrying. When I'm around you I forget about such thoughts only to be plagued by them later on that night. Because when I'm around you everything feels so good. But . . . but nothing gets answered.

I finally gave up on hiding and faced her. This is why I wanted to talk in the first place – right?

I couldn't read the expression on Riza's face. It seemed somewhere in between sympathy, understanding, and something else I just can't quite name. I suppose pity is the closest, but it's not right.

When she finally looked back into my eyes, I could see that it was uncertainty reflected in her brown eyes.

Her response was brief, "I don't know."

"I see." I felt the familiar ache of doubt settle on my mind.

"But that's how it is."

I returned home from my afternoon with Riza with more questions than before. It's frustrating being unable to answer these questions.

Humans should come with an instruction manual. Or at least some reference book on the subject.

There's no way to gauge the interactions. Was it right? Was it wrong? What is 'this'?

But there's absolutely no way to know.

Unless I just ask him.

Just risk everything to satisfy my growing insecurity.

Would that be the right thing to do? Or should I just let it all leave my mind? Continue on and enjoy whatever this is for the time being.

Would I be okay with that?

Sunday arrived so quickly. I had the second draft completed on Friday. I had planned to go into Sunday's meeting with a clear head, but Riza proved to be no help.

So here I was.

My work was completed.

My head was a mess.

And I still don't know if you understood the true nature of the meeting today.

Everything is so complicated.

I located a free seat near the front reception area. Sundays in the unsecured wing of the First Branch are surprisingly busy. Little kids to college students come here for research materials and occasionally reading materials. It tends to make a library quite loud even if they are trying to be quiet.

I wonder why you wanted to meet here? The alchemical wing had to be vacant and was by far a more appropriate place for a meeting about the alchemy exam.

I stopped my thoughts when I noticed a boy about four years old staring at my right arm.

It was still quite warm out so I had dressed comfortably. At the time, I hadn't questioned it, but now I was wondering if that was such a smart thing to do. Now it was quite obvious. A T-shirt would make my arm quite visible to all and attract attention from people who are unaccustomed to seeing automail. After this was Central, not Rush Valley.

I placed on a warm smile for the kid. "Better than the real thing, huh?" Oh, what a lie. I hated this arm and all the attention it came with.

I watched his eyes go wide. He let out a giggle that children are only capable of and nodded his head enthusiastically. He was just about to try and poke the metal of my arm when his mother finally noticed.

She grabbed his hands and placed the child back into the chair properly, "Honestly, Peter." She replaced the book the boy had disregarded for my arm back into the boy's hands. "Here look at the pictures." She then turned to me and saw what at attracted the boy's attention. "I'm sorry about that. Boys can be so curious."

I smiled back at her. "No problem. Happens all the time."

Yeah, it'll happen again too. The only difference is that children are upfront about their curiosity. They will ask, touch, or stare at the things they want to know more about. Adults just notice the oddity and then talk about the person as if he/she didn't exist. I can already hear the mother telling her friends all about what Peter did today. Something like 'Oh, there was this boy and it was the strangest thing. He had an arm made of metal. Yep, the whole thing. And Peter just . . .'

"Hello, Ed."

"Huh?" I snapped out of my daydream when I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

"I said hello. Have you been waiting long?"

"Oh, no." Suppress the urge to blush – suppress.

"Huh, it's more crowded than I thought. I just didn't want to bother with security today. They make a record of everything."

I watched a small frown form on your face as you looked around the reception area. It was then that I noticed the mother looking at you.

Maybe it was due to my own insecurities, but that pissed me off so . . . so . . . what is she doing? Isn't she married to some man – she has a kid. But that dreamy, far-off look that women get was clearly written all over her face.

Sure, let her stare at me like some sort of circus freak, but sheep will fly before I let her . . .

Oh wait, I could probably do that. Chimera development was a little slow but it was theoretically possible. Perhaps, a warm day in Briggs is a better analogy.

"How about a switch?"

"Huh, a what?" There was no doubt that I wasn't paying attention.

"A switch. This just isn't going to work."

"Oh, well we can go . . ."

"I know a perfect spot. This way."

You firmly gripped my left shoulder tucking my right arm between us as we headed towards the door. Just as we passed through the library's main doors you whispered, "I want your full attention."

Oh help me, I'm turned on by assertiveness. And you are so good at it.

Suddenly, I didn't care about that damned woman or her stares.

You directed me around Central until we reached an outdoor courtyard near Central Command. The area was nicely shaded by mature trees with U shaped benches scattered around.

You must have noticed my questioning look. "It's a meeting place for academy students. Training Officers instruct groups of new recruits here, but it's largely ignored during the summer since new recruits don't arrive until the fall."

"It's just that I've never been here before."

"Well, most people can't skip basic training."

"Because of the exam?"

"No, you were twelve."

"This isn't leading into 'and now I've got you sign up this Fall' is it?"

I looked up to see your reaction. A small smile found its way to your face along with a quiet laugh. You almost looked relaxed despite being on military grounds.

"No, Ed. I wouldn't do that to our Training Officers. Besides I can't think of anything useful you'd learn from it." If I hadn't been studying your face at that moment, I know I would have missed that look. That odd look that crosses your face whenever the military actually wants to use me for military purposes. I'd always thought that it was a patronizing almost insulting look – as if you thought that I wasn't capable. Now, mixed with such a soft tone to your voice, I'd almost think that you're trying to protect me – shield me from something I'm obviously ignorant of.

What is it?

You located a spot you liked and turned me around so fast I couldn't do anything but comply. The amount of pressure you added to my shoulders told me to sit. The effect placed me in a position where I had to crane my neck even more than usual to make eye contact with you.

I was just about to comment on this when you sat down beside me – right beside me. So close I could feel your warmth where our legs touched. While a rush of excitement coursed through my body, I wondered why you were favoring my right side? You knew I was protective of that side simply because . . .

It took me awhile but it dawned on me that you hadn't said a word since we sat down. In fact, we hadn't said anything at all.

I was so embarrassed when it occurred to me that you were probably waiting for second draft of the exam. "Oh," I let out a nervous, meek laugh, "you were waiting for this."

When I looked at you to give you the document I could see that your eyes didn't reflect their usual sharpness. Normally, you have a stern, military sharp look on you, but right now . . . right now you looked far from that. Instead your eyes seemed darker, more far off as if you were lost in your own thoughts as well.

It also didn't help my onset of nervousness that you weren't fixated on the documents I had in hand. You seemed to be staring at me.

"Uh, Gen . . . General?"

"Hmm?" You practically purred – and I would know thanks to Al's cat obsession.

I wasn't quite sure how to respond. Part of me panicked and desperately needed to snap you out of this while another part was curious enough to let you continue on. Both were urging me in separate directions when a third part decided to voice its own opinion to make up my mind.

Perhaps this is why I like assertiveness. Because if I don't have a clue it's comforting to know that the other does.

I felt my indecisive panic cease when your fingers brushed over my left arm just below the shirt sleeve hem. A light tug tucked me easily up against you with your arm draped over my shoulders.

For the first time, I decided to end all analysis. It hadn't worked so far.

I relaxed and rested my head against your arm.

Even though it was still fairly warm outside, I wasn't bothered by the added heat at all.

I felt you shift to move closer against me and pressed a light kiss to the top of my head. Then, with your free arm you took the second draft from my relaxed grip.

While I was busy mentally cheering for myself, I listened to the sound of paper flipping as you glanced over my work.

Everything just felt right.

You decided to interrupt my quiet bliss, "Are you doing anything else today?"

No, I pretty much planned my day around you. "No, nothing much."

"Good. Let me drop this off at my office. Then . . ."

"Then what?" I watched you stand up and began to walk towards Central Command. "Hey, then what?"

A/N: Cliffhanger! Well to be honest I'm tired and wanted to post – so yeah deal. Review please!


	7. Chapter 7

Then This

You never did answer my question.

I think that's okay now.

At first, I was truly pissed off when you walked out of my sight without another word and left me shouting 'Then what?' I was reaching the point of livid when you didn't say a single word all throughout Central Command.

Longest fifteen minutes of my life.

Then, once we headed away from the military base, you made one little comment that completely reversed my impending meltdown. "How about a quiet dinner?"

My glorious response, "Huh?" I'm sure the wide-eyed, gaping mouth look added to my stupidity.

But you just smiled back at me. The one I love so much. Not the military 'yes, sir, I'm happy to do that' smile, or even the 'I'm sure there's a perfect girl out there for you Havoc' smile, but your genuine 'I'm just happy' smile. "Dinner, Ed. Would you like to have dinner with me?"

"Well, sure, but it's like two o'clock in the afternoon." I began to walk further away from headquarters, moving to pass Rodger's newspaper stand that I visit every morning before I go to your office – at least when I went to your office. I wanted you further away from headquarters. You seem more relaxed when there is some distance between you and work.

"I know. I was planning on having dinner at my home."

"Oh", I replied quickly, "can you cook?" If I had been thinking clearer I would have known not to say that. Why can't I focus on more than one thing at a time? I was so focused on getting you away . . .

But instead of getting ticked off at my flippant remark, you just laughed. "Just because I'm single doesn't mean I can't cook."

"Yeah, well, I'm not so good at it." Let's hope that makes up for my ill timed remark.

"That I believe. But I do plan on making you help."

After that we walked down to the outdoor market. Since it is Central, the city relies upon outside farming communities for their goods. Almost no one in Central grows their own crops – I'd say no one, but then there would be the one person who is a complete health nut that grows their own food. But that's not really the point. The outdoor market is a large gathering of farmers who haven't made agreements with sellers in Central, or those who have excess goods to sell.

I've been down here a few times, but I find that the corner market is much more accessible.

Plus, going here requires a degree of effort, which I usually don't want to give.

Still, wandering through the various stalls with you was fun. We both knew quite a bit about each other already, but that was only really surface level stuff – things like work. Our first date let me actually get to know you – the you that existed outside of work. Now this felt like a continuation from that point. Finding out what kind of foods you liked was just one more step towards . . .

I hope I'm not making more out of this than there is.

Either way, I got to spend some time with you and in public nonetheless. You didn't seem shy at all. Occasionally, you would place your hand on the small of my back or take a hold of my shoulder with your hand to guide me in a different direction.

Such light touches . . . that meant so much.

We arrived at your home a little after 3:30 in the afternoon.

Last time I didn't get to see the inside, but if the outside was any indicator it was pretty nice. Probably clean too – from a maid.

I wish I had a maid. Then again, I wish I had one dog less at home as well.

I wonder if they already ate all of the food I left out?

"Ed, are you just going to stand there or come inside?"

I blinked a few times and grinned sheepishly for letting my mind wander off. "Uh, no, coming."

I quickly went up the three steps to your porch and stepped inside. I wasn't surprised by how nice it was inside, but I was really worried about messing something up. I wouldn't admit this outwardly, but I knew I was the metaphorical bull in a Xing shop. I just seemed to attract that sort of attention.

From what I could see, there were hardwood floors throughout the house except for the room in the back where tile began. I'm guessing that's the kitchen. Most of the furniture was reddish-brown leather with chestnut wood. There were several area rugs that gave color to the room. But by far my favorite was the wall length bookcase that was filled with books. They lined the shelves in various colors of blue, green, red, black, or brown stating their titles in gold embossed print. Some look rather worn but others were practically new.

It was then that I noticed the home wasn't as perfect as my initial impression led me to believe.

There was an additional pile of books next to a well used chair that was placed just right beside the fireplace and outdoor window. Newspapers were piled up next to the door. Stacks of papers were placed on a dining room table of sorts – probably papers Hawkeye is still asking for.

Granted it was still neat, but I felt more at ease.

You and I are alike in this.

"Follow me." I guess you were done letting me inspect the place.

I quickly fell in line behind you practically grinning from ear to ear. I didn't know why but I just felt happy. "So what do I do first?"

As we worked to make dinner, you turned on a record player for some background noise. It played some old song I wasn't familiar with – but it wasn't bad. In the kitchen, you were cutting up some mushrooms as I sat on the counter. Who was I to stand ceremony? I am who I am and the counter was the best place for me to sit. Those kitchen chairs, _way_ too far away. With nothing else to do at the moment, I tried to get more information about you; especially your family. I already knew that you grew up in a farming community and that your family was large, but I didn't have too many details. After all, you know so much about mine.

"You really have an interest in families." I scowled a little as you laughed.

"It's just that they're a big part of anyone's life." I felt the need to justify my interest.

"Even if I don't really keep in contact with them anymore?"

"Yes, because there's got to be a reason for it."

I watched as you laughed again at my statement. You turned around to let our eyes meet. I must have looked dead serious because you began with, "Alright, I give. What do you want to know about them?"

When you said you came from a large family you really weren't kidding. You were the seventh and final child in your family. You had two older sisters and four older brothers. Of those, both girls and two of the boys were twins. You gave me their names but it was lost information. I was still musing over the idea of identical siblings. Your dad grew various crops including some of my favorites like peas.

You laughed when you said that your mom was the strict type – similar to Hawkeye. You even joked that may be the reason you "put up" with Hawkeye. I replied that the reason you put up with your lackeys is because you had six other siblings.

You spoke so fondly of them all. It was such a different side of you. The way you talked was softer almost as if you where reminiscing about something.

But when I asked why you didn't see your mom anymore, it was the first time you got quiet. Up until that moment, there wasn't a pause in our conversation. I watched your eyes lower and a small frown form on your face. All you said was that you would like to see her again – someday.

I wanted to ask why, but decided it was best left to some other day. Plus, I had just finished setting up the table for dinner and was reclaiming my spot on the counter. You had been busy dividing up the meal into two portions.

I needed to perk you back up and quickly. The best way was to ask about the dissolution of the Council.

Just like Scruffy for a doggie treat, you suddenly stood a little straighter, your eyes widened and brighten up, and the beginnings of a smile could be seen on your face. You talked about how all eligible military personnel have already been contacted about the position of Fuhrer with yourself included. However, along with the Senate, the Council would be involved with choosing the new Fuhrer. A fact that you were not particularly fond of since the Council seemed to favor Brigadier General Ebner.

I knew who Ebner was. He was a stocky, average height man that seemed permanently angry. His grey hair was balding so that there was a circle on the top of his head that reflected light. I think he polished it in the morning. However, despite his physical appearance, the real reason I didn't like him was due to the fact that he could never make a decision. He was the living embodiment of "sitting on the fence". Then again, this is probably the reason the Council wanted him for Fuhrer.

You, on the other hand, will do whatever you want. Who cares about advisors?

Another reason why I like you.

Upon coming to this conclusion I decided to relay that information to you. It was risky, but maybe, just maybe, I could begin to find answers to the questions I was afraid to ask.

So I said it, "But you're not like that. That's why I like you." I hate that my voice softened towards the end.

I must have caught you by surprise since you dropped one plate onto the table. Luckily, it didn't have too far to go – only an inch or so. You quickly regained your composure and headed back my way.

You stepped in close so that I had to part my legs to make room for your body or risk kneeing you in the gut. I sat up straight quickly and pulled back a bit nervously. I heard the soft thunk of my head hitting the overhead cabinets – odd but I didn't feel it. You placed one hand on the outside of my parted thighs and cupped the left side of my face with your free hand.

Now locked in this position, you leaned in to whisper, "And that's one of the things I like about you." Then, you placed a fleeting, but welcomed kissed on my surprised lips. "Come on, let's eat."

I'm not sure if you aware of this but at that moment my legs weren't working – at all.

Neither was my brain.

I managed to put an affirmative nod together and carefully pushed myself off the counter.

After dinner, I helped clean up despite being extremely sleepy.

I know I questioned your ability to cook prior to all of this, but my doubts have been silenced. Dinner consisted of a tender cut of pork glazed in some kind of sweet sauce. I don't know what it is – even though I watched you make it – all I know is that I liked it. You had also made some kind of mixed rice dish and an assortment of vegetables that I admitted I ate.

It was like eating at a restaurant. Mark me surprised.

It wasn't that late into the evening so I settled onto your couch as you located a program on the radio you liked.

I was feeling so content with . . . with everything. It felt like we were already together. As if I had been living you all this time.

I wished that I didn't have to leave at the end of this.

Once you had selected the program, you returned to share the couch with me. Its soft sound was comforting to listen to. The warm feeling of the two of us side-by-side adding to my comfort.

For awhile we sat in companionable silence just listening.

I was completely unprepared for your question.

"Why did you stay, Ed?"

It was the first time you looked away from me. I know I do that to hide, but when did you need to?

I decided to antagonize you a bit, "Stay where?"

You didn't turn back towards me at all. Instead you let out a heavy sigh, "I'm serious Ed, don't play around."

The hint at anger in your tone was more than enough to set me straight. I knew why I had chosen to stay. I had come back because I knew no other way to live. I had come back because I had nothing else to hold onto – much less believe in. I had come back because . . .

. . . of you – nothing more.

But I couldn't say that could I?

My prolonged silence must have irritated you more, "Dammit Ed! Just . . ."

I cut you off, "Just tell you why, I know." I let my voice soften to the point of sadness. "I don't know if I can say it."

"I had asked you once before, when did you stop trusting me, Ed? Or should I say Fullmetal?"

The sound of the code name hurt in ways I couldn't describe. I was Ed – Ed! Don't you dare change that now!

I felt the urge to lean forward to hide behind my bangs once again, but . . . I didn't. I knew tears welled in my eyes. I could hear the throbbing of blood pulsing in my ears. My breath grew short – emotion shrinking my lungs. And yet this anger pushed me on.

One more risk.

This could end everything, but dammit it all you asked.

"Fine! You want a reason. I came back because I know no other way to live. I sure as hell can't stay in quiet Resembool. I came back because I had nothing else." I let you take those excuses in. Then, I let my voice drop back down to a quiet, normal tone. "But the real reason I came back was because of you."

I watched you turn back to face me – a look of worry and skepticism in your eyes.

I continued, "And I never stopped trusting you. I just distance myself. Because you said one word to me 'agreeable'. Do you have any idea how much that hurt?"

Okay, so maybe a description should have come with that statement, but I knew what it meant.

"Agreeable? How . . . why?" The mark of confusion was clearly written on you.

"A long while back, I started acting better. You described me as more agreeable."

"And this upset you?"

I let out weak, "Yeah."

"And that meant this much?"

And now I'm pissed off again, "Yes! Oh, just forget it." And everything had been going to well.

Well, now you know how I feel and you don't show any sign of returning the favor. Was this all over now? Did I manage to kill it by wanting something I can't have?

I heard you laugh and the sharp pang in my heart worsened. "I didn't know I had such an effect."

I felt everything just stop. No sound, no movement, no feelings, nothing at all.

You continued, "I'm sorry if that hurt you. I'm sure I meant it to be a compliment. As for . . . well come here."

I pushed as far away from you as I could on the couch. I don't know if I succeeded, but I tried to stare back at you like a wet cat – really ticked off. I wanted you to know that it had hurt. Even if I had already forgiven you.

Wait, you said you were sorry?

You softened your voice to a tone you knew I liked, "Please, Ed?"

I sat a little closer, but not too close.

After a quiet moment, I moved in closer so that I was snuggled up next you. The truth is that I like it here. Smug bastard. You, then, freed the arm I had temporary pinned between us and placed it around me.

I felt a bout of nervousness when I realized that my right, metal, arm was at your fingertips. What if that . . .

That's when I felt those fingers playing with a few strands from my bangs.

I felt you shift to look at me by placing yourself almost in the corner of the couch. That same hand moved and freed my hair from the ponytail I had placed it in. You seemed to be scrutinizing me.

You faced was screwed into a questioning look and I had to ask, "Now what?"

"Why don't you wear your hair down?" Your hands moved to pull some of it forward so that it lay against either shoulder.

"Because it's hot. It gets in the way and it's not," I felt the grin spreading on my face, "in military regulation."

"Well, that's true, but I could have fixed that problem years ago."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that since you passed the exam, I've dealt with comments regarding your hair and general appearance."

"You never told me anything." I sat back a little bit.

"Because then I would have had to do something about."

"So, you're being lazy again?"

"No," I listened to you laugh again. You moved again to close the distance between us so that your lips were close to brushing against my left shoulder. "I didn't want this hair cut before I could do this."

I wasn't given any time to react before you grabbed a hold of my hair forcing my head to tilt back. The momentum of the movement pushed me backwards until my back hit the cushions of the sofa. In this new position, I began to feel you place quick, soft kisses against my throat as you moved up to my mouth. Once there, you pressed your lips against mine in a fierce, hungry kiss.

My mind ceased trying to make sense of the situation once you had begun to kiss me.

I moved to wrap my arms around your shoulders as our bodies shifted seeking a comfortable position – your weight on top of me.

Your tongue pressed against my lips and I opened them eagerly. I shivered slightly at the contact and felt a rush of pure desire course through my body. Your moan audible as your tongue began sliding against my own. My own natural response caused my hips to move upwards seeking to press against yours.

I knew that this could be moving too fast, too sudden. Weren't we just fighting?

But I didn't care about what consequence may lie ahead or what questions were left unanswered.

You just felt good.

You broke our kiss off letting us both gasp for much needed air. I looked into your eyes searching for some sign that this was okay. However, a second rush pulsed through me when I could see just how lost in this you were. Your eyes were so dark, your chest was heaving in rhythm to mine . . . I wondered if I looked the same.

I wonder what caused this shift.

I managed one word, "Roy" before you resumed your desired assault on my body – your mouth latching onto and sucking at the joint of my neck and left shoulder. I wanted to cry out your name, but it was lost in some incomprehensible sound I uttered.

I felt you shift your weight again – allowing some space to come between our bodies. I heard the creak of leather near my head as your hand began to support the weight your knees weren't taking. Your free hand was unknown to me until I felt it sliding upwards underneath my shirt.

Your fingertips brushed across my belly as you moved upwards towards my chest. That hand didn't stop until you found my left nipple and pinch it lightly. My body bucked upwards seeking yours again as another strangle cry ripped from my lips. My hand clutching onto your shoulder – desperately trying to drag you back down.

I want . . . I wanted more . . . anything . . . contact . . .

My mind was so muddled.

My body was screaming for any further contact.

Touch me . . . more . . . more . . .

I listen to your soft laughter as you nuzzled against my neck. Using your position to your advantage, you pulled my shirt upwards exposing my chest.

I didn't care about what you were going to so long as . . . so long as . . .

You lowered yourself between my now parted legs. You pressed a kiss to my belly before you licked a line up to my chest causing another wave of desire to force a moan from my lips. My left hand found its way to your head and I grabbed on feeling the short strands of hair between my fingers.

I heard you whisper, "So eager" as your lips closed in around my nipple and began to tug. At first the touch was light, then when you used your teeth to gain a better grip, it became rougher. You began to alternative between bites, lick, small kisses . . .

I was so lost in anything you were willing to give me.

I felt you move downwards again – your lips pausing to gently kiss my exposed stomach. My hand had released your hair. Soon, your hand was placed on top of the hem of my pants.

You looked up at me. I was completely breathless. My body ached and . . . oh, I don't know anymore.

"Ed, can I?"

Just the sound of your voice made me want to arch into that hand. But I hesitated.

"I can always stop if . . . if you want to."

I could distantly hear the sound of the radio, but my heart beat was much louder.

I nodded yes.

"Yes?" You confirmed.

"Y-yes." The word can out in a ragged breath. Just don't stop.

I saw that wolfish smile spread across your face.

I just agreed to be yours.

I didn't hear anything until I felt your hand cupping me in my pants. I cried out as you said something to the effect of "No underwear". I was desperately clutching the side of the couch as you began to fondle me. My ability to breathe was quickly vanishing.

In one easy moment you freed my aching member from its confines. Your hand sliding over it encouraging the growing erection.

I wasn't sure what you had planned. I was the one on my back, my chest exposed, and now my pants undone while you were still completely clothed.

I was trying to form the question in my head when I felt your hand tighten its grip around my erect cock. I grabbed into the couch tighter since I couldn't find you and cried out your name.

Your name finally came out right.

I watched the expression on your face change to something more . . . more possessive. I was ready to beg under that new look.

You just gave me a grin before you lowered your head. When I first felt your soft tongue run over the tip of my cock, I screamed your name again. Soon, I was chanted it like some sort of strange prayer as your lips covered the head of my member.

And continued further down.

I was gasping in short breaths as I watched my cock disappear into the warmth of your mouth. Your tongue always sliding against the underside of my member making me ache – creating a pressure I was dying to release.

You pulled back after one hard suck making me nearly lose it. I felt that tongue lick a line against the underside of my aching erection as your hand moved to slide your thumb against the soft skin behind my sac. As if to let me know where this could go.

I felt my body tighten against the movement. Telling me I actually wanted this to happen.

I tried to glance back down at you to see if this is what you planned to do.

I was instead interrupted by the returning warmth of your mouth. I felt you begin to move faster, suck harder, until I couldn't hold out any longer.

My vision spotted.

I came into your awaiting mouth and felt the muscles in your throat work to swallow all that I released.

When I finally came back from the high you had given me, I realized you had covered me back up. Thankfully, you were still on top of me.

My arms felt heavy, but I still managed to wrap them around you – hugging you against me. We stayed this way as you let me regain my breath. When you were satisfied that I had caught up enough, you moved to kiss me and I met you halfway. I felt our lips touch as I desired to deepen our kiss. I felt our tongues touch once again and wondered if this is what I tasted like.

What about you?

I wanted to know.

I wanted to know if I could do the same to you.

I lay beneath you wondering about the impact of what just happened.

After all, aren't you . . . you know needing . . . I suppose I could try. But what if I was bad at it? Obviously you aren't and I'd wouldn't . . . And then I probably need to ask you . . . to you know . . . how to . . .

The now familiar sense of nervousness settled on me.

I wanted to, but the 'what ifs' are scaring the hell out of me. And asking you about how you . . . did that was probably turning me new shades of red.

I really am such a kid.

You moved to sit up. I tightened my grip around your neck so that you pulled me upright into your lap. I really just didn't want to let go of you right now. Cuddled up against you felt so right even if I wasn't sure about what came next.

So far we hadn't said a thing.

Maybe I should?

You began to stand up making me slide off my desired spot on your lap and back onto the couch.

At first, I wasn't sure if I did something wrong, but then I noticed that you were holding out your left hand to me.

"Come on." That was all you said.

For once, I was glad that my mouth moved quicker than my mind. Because if I had thought about it, I would have never asked. "Where?"

You smiled and stated, "To bed."

Uh, whoa! I mean . . . did I . . . what about . . . should I . . . "Uh, w-what?"

I heard a soft laugh escape you. "Ed, I just don't want you to leave tonight. Nothing more."

The blonde in me blinked absent-minded as if trying to process something far too great for my mind. But as I placed my own hand into your awaiting one, I knew I was silently acknowledging that I trusted your words.

I followed you into your bedroom – nervousness gnawing away at my sanity with every step.

You left me standing in the room while you disappeared into some unknown location. I glanced around the room wondering what should I do next? I knew about the rumors, but so far you haven't been anything like that.

You really haven't asked me to do anything.

Yet.

Maybe.

I don't know.

When you returned you handed me a small bundle of clothes and once again I felt lost. Unfolding one item I began to understand as you said, "I don't suppose you sleep in those."

I glanced downwards at the leather pants and thought about the number of times I had curled up on a train bench for nap. I slept just fine in fact. Well, that is until Al yelled, "Ed, this is our stop!"

"Actually, I have."

You had turned to walk off to another part of the home and paused at my response. For a moment, I waited to see if you would reply, but then you continued on your way. Leaving me here again.

I began to change into the clothes you had provided. I was grateful that you had decided to disappear and allowed me to change in private. Weird preference, I know, especially when you consider what had just happened.

The clothes appeared to have been an academy uniform at one time. The grey T-shirt bore the military insignia in the upper left hand section of the shirt and beneath that the name 'Mustang' was stitched on. It made me smile. The pants were made of a light weight material and colored in military blue.

As it is both were too big. Nothing ever fits me right, which is probably why I don't vary my clothing style. If it fits, I'll buy in bulk.

The shirt was too wide at the collar, but not so wide that it fell off one shoulder. Another round of silent thanks. The short sleeves hung just slightly below my elbows and the bottom hem hit me about mid-thigh. The pants hung loosely around my waist, but were luckily equipped with an elastic band to hold them up. They were also too long so I had to roll them up a bit.

Even as I cursed your height, I was glad that they were pants instead of shorts because . . . well because shorts are just that short. I know that you've seen my arm and you know about my leg, but . . .

My leg has always been hidden.

You've had time to get accustomed to seeing my arm. About six years in fact. The leg is a different story.

It has always been hidden underneath black boots and leather pants. I've never worn shorts around you. The only place I even think about wearing shorts is when Winry is fixing up my leg or I'm going to bed – alone. Well, maybe Al was around since we usually share a room. Everywhere else is a strict pants only policy.

It sounds funny that I would be so anxious to hide it, but it makes me different. Not that yellow eyes or possessing an intellectual understanding to rival most adults at twelve didn't make me different enough. But I can close my eyes or look away and I can pretend to be dumb. I can't hide the dull sound metal makes as I walk. And I can't hide the glint the metal on a sunny afternoon without covering up. Even then, I know it looks odd. Who wears a coat in summer? Or gloves? But if I don't cover it up – I get people like that mother staring at me.

I can't help but feel like some kind of strange novelty placed out on display.

If that's how others see me – what about you?

I shook my head to clear away the doubts and placed my clothes on a chair in the corner of the room.

No. You wouldn't do that to me.

Because you never have.

I can trust you with this. You haven't let me down before.

I noticed that you had returned at some point in my mental wanderings. You were pulling down the bed sheets.

The nagging voice of doubt left one last thought. You haven't let me down professionally. Remember how you called me 'agreeable'.

But you apologize for that.

But it could happen again.

Shut up.

"Have you come back?"

Your voice silenced doubt's because I like to listen to you more. "Huh?"

"I guess not."

"Yeah, I tend to do that." I tried to explain. Then I smiled, "So, had to see me in uniform?"

I watched you smile that smile again – the one I loved so much. "I suppose it's close enough. Shame it's too . . ."

"Watch it." I cut you off playfully.

You laughed again, "Okay. You sleep on your right side." You said that as a strange hybrid between a statement and a question.

"Oh, uh, yeah." The small amount of confidence I had gained in joking banter had dissipated in a flash. That persistent pain in the ass anxiety returned making my gut twist.

I listened to the sound of sheets rustling as I stared at the burgundy comforter. Odd, I'd always thought that it would be blue.

"Come here."

Placing a moratorium on all further thought, I crawled into your bed. I let you guide me until was comfortably on my right side with my back up against you. I placed my head on the pillow and could pick out the scent I had come to know as you.

Which side of the bed did you sleep on? Was I on your side?

Where I laid did feel lived in, but with those rumors – well it was possible. Maybe you didn't sleep alone all that often. Then again the only scent I can find on this pillow is yours. No perfume – nothing else at all.

I felt your arm wrap itself around my waist. I shifted slightly onto my back in order to turn to face you – to say what I wasn't sure.

"Hm, Ed?" You moved to look back at me.

"Uh . . . I don't know." I could feel the beginnings of blush warming my face.

The arm at my waist left and now cradled one side of my face. I shut my eyes anticipating what was to come as I felt you press a chaste kiss to my lips. I was tempted to ask for more, but then . . . well, I might have to ask you how you did that earlier.

In all honesty, I'm glad you didn't ask me. Even though I want to be with you – the serious stuff scares me. Hell, I couldn't believe what happened on the couch.

The arm moved back down to its former position and tugged me against you in some sort of hug. "Get some sleep, Ed."

I resettled on my side.

You hadn't lied to me. You said that you wanted me to stay and nothing more.

For the first time, I didn't think about the volume of questions I had concerning us.

I awoke the next morning still curled up on my side. Personally, I was glad that I hadn't whacked you in the middle of the night with either metal limb. If I had, there was little doubt that you would want to get away from me as soon as possible.

It was then that I realized I had woke up alone.

Distantly, I could hear water running as I glanced at the clock. It was 7:24 in the morning. Far too early for me to be up.

But then again it is Monday. There are staff meetings on Monday.

Do I have to go?

It was then that I got an early morning surprise. From where I was curled up on the bed, I got to watch you walk by with nothing but a towel on. Your hair still drying.

Okay, so I was awake now.

I waited until you were just beyond my sight, "G'morning."

"Good morning, Ed."

I listened to the soft sound of your steps as they receded from my location. I sat up and stretched in an attempt to care about moving.

This was kinda fun. The feeling that we have been together all along took hold of me again. Making me far too comfortable.

You returned with half your uniform on. The military blue pants were on, but the jacket was missing. The white, button-up shirt you always wear hung open revealing your chest.

And to think at one point in time, I actually wanted hurt you. Well, I really just wanted to get rid of that smug grin.

I guess I had been staring because you remarked, "Like what you see?"

Unfortunately, I had been on a bad line of thought, "Smug bastard." It was quickly followed with 'I'm an idiot' in my head.

I watched you walk over to where I was seated on your bed. Panic gripped my mind. Had I managed to really piss you off this time?

I felt your fingers run thorough my loose hair as one hand moved to tug my chin up. You leaned over to whisper in my ear, "Such a mouth. I'm going to have to teach you to use it better."

I felt my entire face heat as my sight blurred. I felt your weight cause the bed to dip slightly telling me you were now seated beside me.

I heard you say "Hmm, I didn't miss it this time."

I knew you were referring to my tendency to blush at your comments. Can I help it that I was so new to this? And that you're not.

I began to stammer, "Wha . . . I-I mean . . ." I watched the playful look on your face fade into something more serious as you moved closer towards me.

Your fingers touched my exposed collar and trailed up to my throat. The touch was so light – almost uncertain.

I leaned into it hoping for more. This seemed to encourage you. But instead of getting more contact from your body, you stated in a low voice, "Make-up for it."

I gulped and replied, "What?"

"You said something hurtful. Make-up for it."

For a moment, a familiar childish urge pressed me to argue back – to refuse your blatant order.

Silencing it quickly, I wondered what would do? I wasn't really sure what you wanted from me. I pushed myself up so that I was on my knees and crawled over to you placing myself in your lap.

I didn't have anything planned. I just happen to like it here.

I felt your hands slip around my waist – securing me into my current position. Your hands rested and warmed the small of my back.

I glanced back at you to see a slight, smug grin on your face. Cocky bastard.

Uncertain and rather shaky, I attempted to mimic your movements. I leaned in close to begin a simple, gentle kiss. Hoping that as our lips met, I wouldn't do anything embarrassing like smashing our teeth together.

But as my mouth met yours with a soft touch – I felt all other worries vanish.

I had placed my left hand against your bare chest in order to balance myself, but, as I felt a bit bolder, I began to wonder if I should do more with it. Lightly, I moved my hand over the right side of your chest brushing over your nipple. Even now I felt the blush creeping in at the bold movement, but my reward for such a move was to hear the low hiss you made as I touched you.

I had left my right arm at my side.

Continuing my imitated movements, I ended the sweet kisses by licking along your lips to ask for entrance as you did. When you parted your lips, I had planned to move in, but you obviously had other ideas.

The hands that were lightly placed against the small of my back suddenly pulled tight. While one hand remained to hold me in place, the other slid up my back to play with my loose hair. You, then, took control of the kiss I had begun. I felt your tongue push its way into my mouth.

I groaned at the contact and shifted slightly in your lap. I pulled my left hand up off your chest to lay the arm over your shoulder – pulling us tighter together. Responding to your tongue, I began to move my own against it.

I felt the hand at the small of my back move further down. I felt it slide past the loose waist band of my borrowed pants and grip my ass firmly. I jumped slightly forward at the touch – pressing our groins together.

I moaned into our joined mouths and shifted in your lap again to continue the touch.

That's when you broke off our kiss and attempted to still my movements.

I was so confused. Hadn't this been going right? "What . . . d-did I . . ."

You placed you head against the juncture of my throat – where flesh met metal.

"No, Ed. It's just . . ."

"Just what?" I jerked back a bit in order to face you. I needed to know what in the hell just happened. I had thought everything felt good.

"Well, anymore and I'm not going work."

"Oh," was all I managed to reply. I could feel my eyes widen in shock at your response, but at the same time I felt a little bit proud.

I have an effect on you.

After another quick kiss, you placed me back onto the bed. All you stated was that, "I need to get to work."

"Because Hawkeye will kill you?"

I heard something similar to a scoff come from the bathroom as your response. When you finally came back out, you looked more like the General I knew so well. As you pulled the jacket over the now slightly wrinkled white shirt, "You know you do have to come in today."

"Make me?" I tried.

"Very funny. I'll have Hawkeye call your home as a reminder. Get home by ten. The meeting isn't until after lunch."

"Fine."

You turned to leave the room, "Oh, and Ed?"

"Yeah."

You dug something out of a dresser drawer and walked back over to me. So far I hadn't left my comfortable spot on your bed. "Here. Use this."

I felt the small, cold item pressed into my palm. Then you turned and left for Central Command.

When I looked down I realized that it was a key.

And a new key at that.

It looked like it had never been used – let alone given to anyone before.

I smiled at this thought.

A/N: Reviewing makes me happy.


	8. Chapter 8

Booklets

The room was dark in order to allow the projector to poorly reflect an image onto an off-white material. Pictures from the latest reconstruction project were being displayed. I didn't remember where it was happening. I just knew that I didn't care.

And neither did anyone else.

Only the three old men at the end of the long table seemed to be awake and absorbing the information being offered.

On their immediate right were Ebner and his staff. On their left was where we were seated. Other Generals were seated further down the table with their staff placed behind them. Only the Generals' secretaries were allowed to sit at the table with them.

So here I was, stuck in a portable chair that was made from some unyielding wood in a semi-circle behind you and Hawkeye. Being slowly bored to death.

I was on one end of the semi-circle with Kain beside me. If it wasn't for him I really would have died of boredom long ago. Well, maybe I would be daydreaming about this morning, or last night . . .

Currently, we were passing notes in the darkened room. It was risky to goof-off like this with the Council sitting so close to us. However, seeing that they were so enthralled with the report, they wouldn't notice if the Lieutenant providing the report was naked.

I felt a soft tap at my thigh and turned my attention back to the offered tablet of paper. Written on it, in Kain's neat handwriting, it said `How are they? I think I have a home for Joey.`

Of all the things to ask – well, I should have figured that he was going to ask about the dogs. After I semi-abandoned them last night, they hadn't been too pleased when I returned this morning. In order to prove their point, they had shredded several new alchemical journals I had yet to read. I replied back in my best illegible writing `They're fine! What else do you expect?'

After a few moments, `I don't know. Maybe they're lonely or tired or happy or want to run. I get off early today. Can I see them?`

`When?'

`When what?'

`When do you leave? I need to get you a key to my place.'

`3.'

It was almost two in the afternoon already. `I'll leave with you.'

Just as I passed the tablet back to Kain, the lights flickered back on. The groans and whines of pain filled the small conference room. After being in the dark so long the sudden change had hurt everyone's eyes.

Soon, a creaky voice spoke out, "Now to move on to the most important topic for today."

As the Council member attempted to stand – frankly I wouldn't try if I was him – I watched you perk up. It was then that I noticed the other Generals had done so as well.

Must be the discussion regarding the Fuhrer position.

The same voice continued, "Very soon the Senate and we will convene to discuss the position of Fuhrer. We have reviewed many different personnel files and will discuss each at length. However, what we ask from this room is for each staff member to please fill out one of these."

As he said so, he gestured to the shy girl in the back holding a large pile of paper. Scieszka quickly stood up and placed the pile of paper on the table.

Had she been here the whole time? If so, wasn't her legs numb from the giant paper stack they made her carry?

The old man went on, "Scieszka here will pass out to each staff member, including secretary, a booklet. We ask that you fill this out in private and answer honestly. No name will be attached to any booklet. We also ask that you deliver it to the main front desk for collection. Scieszka will be there until Wednesday to gather them for us."

I stared down at the pages of paper in my hand. Curious, I flipped it open to look at a few of the questions. They were all asking questions regarding our opinions of each and every General in this room. Each page contained the same questions, but listed a different General.

Wasn't this interesting.

I heard the old man's voice speak up again taking everyone away from flipping the pages of the booklet. "Please do not discuss what you write down with each other. And _do not_ inform anyone else of what is asked in the booklet. Thank you."

With that last warning he sat down carefully.

I looked at Kain and he just shrugged back in return.

The meeting adjourned shortly thereafter.

Our group returned to your office – just as we always do. However, once inside the expected happened.

I watched you closed the door softly then turned on us like a rabid dog. A few of us jumped back and poor Kain hid behind Havoc. You began, "What in the hell are those."

Lucky for us, we have Hawkeye, "Sir, we were asked not to discuss them with anyone. Which is a small way of telling you not to ask us about them either."

I watched you first frown, then pout, and finally opt for pleading. "I don't need to know the specifics just a general idea."

Hawkeye stood firm, "No."

I decided that hiding behind Hawkeye was my best bet because, let's face it, I was your best bet for information.

Hawkeye glanced down at me quickly giving me a warm look that only Riza managed. She then turned back on you and mouthed the word 'No'. She tapped her gun for effect.

I watched a resigned look crossed your face. It was the same look you got when you realized that there was no way you were leaving your office without signing papers. "Fine," was your curt reply.

You marched back to your office and slammed the door behind you.

With you safely at bay, I glanced back up at the clock to see that it read 2:49. Well, I guess it's really 1449 – but no one really follows that.

I looked back at Hawkeye and decided to give my best pleading look. "Um, Hawkeye?"

She looked up from her position behind her desk. "Yes, Edward."

"It's almost three in the afternoon so could I leave a little bit early with Fuery. I'll come right back."

Both Kain and I had let Hawkeye know about the dog adoption program Kain was running. She raised one eyebrow and then looked at the paling Master Sergeant. "I suppose so, but be quick about it."

"Okay!"

I turned to Kain and quickly left the office.

It was true that Kain was older than me, but when we did stuff like this together, it felt like Al was back. Running away from Central Command in order to do whatever little scheme the two of us had worked out.

It made me miss Al.

When we arrived at my doorstep, we both breathed a sigh of relief and laughed. It was funny after all. We were grown adults who just ran away from work.

Catching my breath, I unlocked the door. "Now, just let me find the key."

Kain nodded in affirmation. Then he asked, "Where are they?"

I looked around and noticed that the dogs weren't running around like crazy. "Huh, must be sleeping somewhere." I poked my head into the dog's room and saw the two of them curled up and sleeping on each other. I gestured for Kain to come over here and pointed into the room. I knew that he would love something like this.

I watched two heads emerge from the bi-colored ball of fluff after Kain announced, loudly, that it was, "So cute!"

Soon both dogs were back on their feet and running around like hyper children. Kain in the middle of it.

I went into my bedroom and located the spare key for Kain. As an afterthought, I wondered if I should have another one made for you.

I pulled out the key you had given me this morning and examined it. It now bore slight scratches on the metal where I had placed it onto my key ring. It was further proof that you had never given this key to anyone else before. Even when I recalled how you located the key this morning, I don't remember hearing the sound of clinking metal when you took it from the drawer. Did that mean that this was the only extra key?

I couldn't stop the smile spreading across my face. It was entirely possible that I had the only spare key to your home. Maybe even the only key you made.

I felt bad about giving my only spare to Kain right now.

I quickly pocketed the spare key and shouted back at Kain, "Hey, I can't find it. So I'll be right back." I walked to the door and looked over my shoulder to see Kain playing tug-of-war with the dogs. "Just stay here."

I ran to the nearest key shop I knew of and had a new spare key made. It doesn't take long to make a new one.

After I returned home and gave Kain the new spare key, I returned to headquarters – briefly. I explained to Hawkeye the reason for my tardiness – a.k.a. blaming the dogs – and then told her I had to go to the library. My second escape for the day completed.

I located my sunny spot in the alchemical wing of the library and settled down on the floor to begin filling out the booklet the Council had given me. I figured that the faster I answered it, the sooner it was out of my life. And then you can ask away.

The first page asked about General Hakuro. The questions first asked me to rate each General on a Likert Scale* regarding items such as: leadership, communication, respect, ability to effectively command, ability to carry out tasks, and other such items. Fortunately, there was also an area marked N/A, or not applicable.

I began to fear that I was going to be circling that answer a lot.

Further down the page and flowing over to the backside of the paper, were open-ended questions. These questions asked about the responses to the Likert Scale questions, what I liked about the queried General and what I didn't and then the last question was what my overall opinion of the General was. Those were much easier to respond to.

I was about halfway through the packet when I heard the familiar sound of boots clicking on hard wood – and in a cadence I was very familiar with. I closed the booklet and look up just as you appeared from the bookshelves.

"Hello," I greeted.

I watched your eyes glance at the booklet in my hands and then back to me before you responded, "Hello, Ed. Working hard?"

"Meh," I quickly stated. I was trying to make it look like it was easy to answer the booklet seated in my lap; despite my knowledge to the contrary. I hate assigning arbitrary numbers. "Why, are you checking up on me?"

You moved to sit on the floor beside me and I repressed the urge to make an old man joke. It was only fair, since you haven't really made any comments about my, uh, height.

We sat so close together – just like on the bench and couch yesterday. I wanted to snuggle up against you, but I probably shouldn't push that rule too far. The military can be quite picky about fraternization and I have a feeling that the whole 'we're both boys' issue would make matters worse. I let out a small sigh.

You leaned into me and I looked at you to see what you were up to. I guess I shouldn't be surprised that you weren't giving me a small sign of affection, but rather trying to see the booklet.

I know I said I shouldn't be surprised, but . . . ugh!

Pissed off that you would try such dirty on trick on me, I took the booklet and shoved it into my carrier bag. I looked back up at you, "What the hell! And here I thought . . . but no! I guess nothing stands between you . . ."

You covered my mouth with a gloved hand. The flint material felt rough against my face. You held a single finger to your lips and stated, "Shh."

I glared back at with as much vengeance as I could muster.

You continued and removed your hand from my mouth, "I'm just curious. You know how important this is."

"Yeah," I stated as I rolled my eyes, "so important that you would . . . would use that to trick me." I placed an emphasis on 'that'.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry."

I furrowed my brows and crossed my arms. I hate the fact that whenever you apologize to me, I instantly forgave you.

I let you continue, "Hawkeye won't let me even near anyone else. Even to get a few hints. And I know that bastard Ebner already knows what's in those booklets. Not to mention Hakuro or Raven." You paused a moment, "Besides, I'm not trying to influence your opinion."

"Pff," was all I responded. Like hell you weren't trying to influence our opinion.

I watched you switch gears. You obviously realized that reasoning with me wasn't working and neither had your attempt at seducing the answers out of me. "Would you give me a general idea after you turn it in?"

So now it's bargaining.

"No."

"Please Ed? Just a little hint."

Now pleading.

"No."

You sighed and hung your head in a defeated look. I was surprised you were so desperate. You even used words like please. I didn't think you could speak that word.

"Oh, alright. I'll leave you alone. Just keep in mind it is four thirty and everyone leaves at five."

I looked around and noticed for the first time that the light coming in from the windows had begun to fade. No matter. I'm still not going to tell you anything. Rotten, dirty trick . . . .

"See you later." With that parting comment you disappeared into the bookshelves.

I was impressed that you didn't trying anything else. I had expected it.

It was closer to nine o'clock when I actually left the library. I hadn't meant to stay that long, but filling out that thing was really hard. Especially since I spent about an hour on your questionnaire alone. I wanted to be fair and objective, but it was difficult considering that I had just spent the night you.

I went home to a rather quiet apartment. Both dogs were sprawled out on the floor resting peacefully.

When I finally got to bed, I couldn't help, but notice your absence.

I stayed home for most of the following day.

I wanted to see you, but . . .

What would be my excuse?

I showed up briefly around three o'clock to find Scieszka and turn in the booklet. Judging by the stack of booklets she already had, many of the other staff members had the same idea I had. Just get rid of the ill gotten thing.

In the end, I was still too kind on your review. I was openly honest about the other Generals like Hakuro and Raven, but I criticized Ebner harshly. As far as I was concerned, he deserved it.

I didn't get to see you at all.

I was rather disappointed.

On Wednesday a rather strange thing happened. I was playing with the dogs on my small patch of grass when I heard the telephone ring.

Which was odd because no one called me except Hawkeye to remind me to show up at headquarters for something. It was mostly used it to call out.

I figured that it would be Hawkeye informing me that I need to turn in the booklet today. It was about two o'clock and the deadline was near. You had been quite adamant that you wanted all of us to turn in a booklet – even if you had no idea as to what it was for.

"Elric."

I heard a deep voice reply, "Oh, so formal." Sometimes I really wanted to hit you.

"What's up? Another staff meeting?"

I heard you laugh at the passing comment. "Thankfully no."

"So then, why the call? Miss me that much?" I almost laughed at the irony of my own question.

"Things can be quite dull without you around, but that's not the point." You did miss me – good. I let you continue, "I was wondering if you would . . ."

I cut you off, "No."

You replied in an exasperated voice, "Why not? You turned it in already."

"And how do you know that?"

"I asked. _Obviously_." I bet you rolled your eyes too – so mature.

"Scieszka told you! She's not supposed to."

"Yeah, but . . . come on Ed, I just want a little hint." And we're back to pleading.

I went silent on the line. In truth, I figured that I would tell you, but with you trying so hard to pry the information from me . . . well, it made me not want to tell you anything at all.

I enjoy being contrary.

I sighed a little into the phone line. Shortly thereafter, I heard your chair creak letting me know that you were sitting forward to lean on your desk. You thought that I was giving in.

"Well," I began and heard the chair creak a little more, "no." I couldn't help it. I laughed maliciously into the phone line.

So, it probably wasn't the best idea.

You replied in a tight voice, probably gritting through your teeth, "Then fine."

That's when I noticed that the line was dead.

You hung up on me!

Feeling slightly ticked off at the abrupt ending of our conversation, I roughly placed the receiver back onto the phone base. As I glared back at it trying to shake the building anger, it rang again.

Fucking phone.

"Elric!" I answered in an angry tone.

"Oh! Hi, Ed." It was Riza. I suddenly felt very bad about my greeting. Especially since she called me Ed.

"Hi, Riza. For a moment there, I thought you were someone else."

"That's okay. I overheard quite well. Even your laughter through the phone."

I hung my head a bit. Granted, I had pissed you off, but you were really getting on my nerves about the booklets. "Oh."

"Are you okay?"

"Me? Yeah, I'm fine. He was just making me crazy about that . . . item."

"He's been making everyone crazy about that item."

"Forgive me for being blunt, but what's going on? Why the call?" Am I going to ask this from everyone today?

Riza let out a weary sigh, "Well, in a last ditch effort, he called you looking for information. I banned any discussion on said item from the office. I also warned everyone here to notify me immediately if he asked about the item. I think he's feeling frustrated. I called to make sure you didn't take it the wrong way."

Suddenly, I felt really bad. I had only wanted to play with you a bit. I didn't want you angry with me. "Oh, okay. Thanks for the heads up." Next time call _before_ you do.

"No problem." Riza paused then whispered in the phone, "Is everything okay?"

I smiled painfully at the thought and wondered just how badly I screwed up. "I think so up until the phone call. Maybe I pushed it too far."

"Not to point out the obvious, but if you feel that way then you should apologize."

If there was one thing I didn't do it was apologize. Not even to Al. I just silently filed away the mistake for another day and moved on.

But you had apologized to me. And meant it.

I let out yet another sigh. "I'll think about it."

Riza let out a small, breathy laugh, "Just remember pride goes before the fall."

"Yeah, yeah. Talk to you later."

"Good bye, Ed."

I glanced down at the phone again. Maybe I was wrong to make fun of you, but then again what right did you have to get so angry with me?

Because this is important to you.

I slumped down onto the couch and was quickly covered in two lumps of comforting fur. Scruffy settled on my lap and Joey covered my feet. I scratched Scruffy's head and looked into his sweet doggy eyes.

"You think I should apologize too?"

He just licked my chin and part of my cheek and gave an affirmative bark.

I rolled him over and began to scratch his soft belly as he happily panted. "Alright, I guess you're better at this then me."

To Scruffy's credit he barked in affirmation once more.

* For those unfamiliar with research, a Likert Scale is a simple rating scale that is usually seen as a ranking system of 1 to 5 where one is Strongly Disagree, five is Strongly Agree, and three is Neutral. However, for most research projects it is recommended that the scale is expanded to at least 1 to 7 in order to accurately gauge the rating received from participants.

A/N: Yay for Master's Degrees! Having done it – I really can't recommend it. I gained like 10 pounds. It sucks. Please review. It makes me so happy.


	9. Chapter 9

Apologizing?

It was dark by the time I had stopped wrestling with the idea of apologizing. The argument went to the effect of:

'But it was important to him.'

'But he was a jerk.'

'I should have explained myself.'

'But he was a jerk.'

'He was just nervous about an important position.'

'But he was a JERK.'

'I should have been nicer.'

'But he was a jerk.'

'I had already turned in the booklet.'

'But he was a jerk.'

'I was going to tell him.'

In the end I realized I had only one argument against apologizing – even if it was a rather effective one.

It was quite strange to analyze my own thought process in this way and it made me wonder. Naturally, I began to think of Al once again. Maybe I should go back and see him. If anyone deserves an apology from me it's Al.

I looked back at the dogs in the small backyard. They created a furry, moving circle as they chased each other's tails around. Oh well, Scruffy had already given me his opinion.

I look up at the clock. It was six o'clock in the evening. You were probably home by now. No, you were home by now. I doubt Hawkeye wanted you interrogating the staff after hours and sent you home early.

Okay, so I'll apologize!

But how? How dumb would it be to walk up to your door and say 'Hey, sorry about the phone call. I only wanted to antagonize you a bit. So, sorry if it pissed you off.' Never work. Plus that scenario required two sorrys.

So what, I just go to see you and say 'sorry'. That's even worse.

I had no idea about what to do.

This is why I do not apologize.

And . . .

. . . you were still a jerk.

As I walked slowly to your home, I followed a pebble I was kicking. This made the journey somewhat strange. As anyone knows, the shortest path between two points is a straight line. Thus, the pebble created a path where unexpected turns were made and backtracking was allowed.

I was stalling. Who cares?

Due to my randomly chosen path I somehow managed to come within walking distance of Central Command.

The pebble had betrayed me.

Since I was already here, I wandered over to the main courtyard in a last minute attempt at preparing myself to see you. As I sat on the wooden bench contemplating my word choice, I could hear the material from the military green flags wisp in the night breeze. The odd sound of synthetic fibers brushing against each other interrupted my thoughts.

Maybe I was going about this all wrong. It was quite obvious that if you were going to be Fuhrer then you . . . I . . . w-we shouldn't be doing this. I had always wondered when this would all fall apart – not that I wanted it to. I had never believed for a moment that you would return my feelings.

But then all of . . . this happened. I hadn't been this happy in awhile. Even Riza had noticed the change in me.

I crossed my arms over my chest and just held myself for a moment. I had forgotten once again. Why did I come back here?

Because there was nothing left for me – only my naïve fantasies of you. That's what drove me back to this place. That is why I left everyone behind.

Well, perhaps not entirely, but it was a large factor.

But we're together now, right? Didn't I get what I came here for? Or was I expecting too much out of you and whatever this is? I mean would you . . . really?

I looked up at the large, overbearing structure of Central Command. These are questions for you. Questions I still had yet to ask.

Questions I still need answers to.

So, that's it. I'll apologize to you for the stupid phone call and making you worry over that stupid booklet. Then it's time to ask those questions.

Okay, so what are they exactly . . .

I almost trailed off into my thoughts when a single lighted window caught my attention. Those passing by this place would think that it was some diligent commander working late into the night. However, for those of us who work here, we knew better.

Especially since that was your light – your office.

I knew it well.

I ran towards the night entrance into headquarters.

After making up some lie about a forgotten report, I quickly made it back to your office. Just as I reached out to touch the door's hard wood, I heard the sound of a heavy glass meeting lacquered wood with a crisp clink. You're drinking.

I've always hated alcohol. It doesn't do anyone any good. All it does is make normal thinking people into overly emotional morons. That and missing a good two fifths of my own body mass doesn't help my own tolerance with the stuff. After a single drink, I'm practically drunk and after two forget it.

I let out a quiet sigh. Would there be any point in talking to you right now? Or . . .

Why I still stood here I knew. I wanted to know what drove you here tonight. Whenever you drank like this alone something big was bothering you – usually thoughts of Hughes. Everyone knew that his death had ripped you in half, but no one knew exactly why. Only me. You told me exactly why because we both know that we're too alike.

I felt small restrictions tugging my throat closed. I pulled my head up to stretch out the uncomfortable feeling and to attempt to hold back the tears brimming in my eyes. I sniffed softly trying to rebottle the flow of sudden emotion. What was this for?

My own mind taunted back an answer. It's because I understand.

Faintly, I heard your chair creak from within your office followed by the clack of military boots against hardwood floors. Caught between the panic to run away and stand my ground, I managed to do nothing at all. I just stood there foolishly almost as if I was waiting for you to find me.

The door open silently with only a small protest from well used hinges. And there you were. I could see your eyes were tinged with pink and unfocused. My arms ached to touch you – to hold you, but I held them firm at my sides.

"Ed?" Your voice trembled so very slightly – so slight I doubt anyone else would have noticed it. "Ed, why are you here?"

I looked up at you hoping that I had successfully reined in those pesky tears. "I . . . you see . . ." I let out deep breath trying to clear my head. Come on Ed, just spit it out! "I was looking for you."

An amused look crossed your face before you settled on a smile. "I see. Whatever for?"

You gestured at me to come inside and I obediently followed. I dropped myself down on your couch feeling amazingly exhausted. I had expected you to return to your desk. Instead, you retrieved the glass and liquor bottle before joining me on the couch.

I let you settle beside me before I began. I wanted you to pay attention to this because I will only do this once! "You see . . . about that phone call . . ."

You gave me another soft smile. "Please forget that, Ed. I . . . I wasn't myself." I watched as you emptied the contents of the glass with ease and then began to refill it. Why are you doing this to yourself? "I am sorry about that."

"No," I began trying desperately to not fidget, "I'm . . . I . . ." What the hell, am I three? "I'm s-sorry. I know how important this is to you. I . . ."

You placed a single finger against my lips and smirked. I could tell that you were deeply amused by my apology, but were hesitant to actually call me on it. "Thank you, Ed. But this one was my mistake. I was stupid enough to listen to Ebner and a few others talking about the booklets. Apparently, they already knew what was in them and 'fixed it' so that I was simply destroyed." You took another drink from the glass. "So that's it. My utter humiliation amused them to no end and I just took it. After all, what could I say?"

I suddenly felt my stomach turn sour. It felt like someone had dropped a weight on me from on high. I'm such an idiot. "Oh, I'm really sorry, Roy."

You gave out a genuine laugh. "Two in one day! You must not be feeling well."

Normally, I would have retaliated at such a comment, but at the moment I felt so unbelievably low I stayed silent.

"Ed? Are you okay?"

I heard you question me, but your voice sounded so far away. My ears were ringing and the tears that I had held back threatened to return. I had finished the ill-gotten thing early. Why didn't I just tell you about it? I had my laugh at the library, but no. I had to push it too far and now look! Everyone else was cheating and your chances – they're probably ruined. All because I refused to give you any information at all.

I took in a shaky breath, "Just so you know, I gave Ebner a crappy review. And you . . . you I was probably too nice to." But I wonder if that is a good thing now? What good does telling you this now mean?

"Huh? Wait, Ed, what are . . ."

"Those booklets were questionnaires about all of the Generals that are up for the promotion of Fuhrer. It asked what we thought of all of you using a bunch of closed and open-ended questions."

"I know that now thanks to Ebner. I don't know why I called you."

I actually winced at those words – the effect bit me deeply. I was supposed to be the person you could call on for this kind of thing. Here, I was so focused on what you weren't telling me that I ended up doing the same thing to you.

I'm the jerk.

I let you down.

I kept my head down and wished that there was a way to fix the past. But – well I've been down that road before and it doesn't work. Even for something this small – maybe especially for something this small.

With the softest touch, I felt your fingers beneath my chin again – telling me to look up. "Ed . . . wait, did you say open-ended?"

"Yeah, most of the open-ended questions asked for substantiation for the closed-ended questions." I began to let my head drop back down when I noticed the sudden clarity in your voice.

Was there something I missed?

"So, a perfect review would require an explanation for that rating."

"Well, yeah," I began. Your entire posture had changed. You were beginning to resemble the General that everyone knew once more. "But who would rate their superior perfect? Even I didn't rate you . . ."

"That's it. Ebner's subordinates didn't tell him everything so he couldn't have destroyed my chances."

Now I was confused.

You were now sitting close to the edge of the couch – the glass of bourbon long forgotten. You suddenly turned to me and pulled me into your arms. My face was pressed into the nook between your shoulders and neck and my arms were locked at my sides. Even though it wasn't the most comfortable position, I was just glad that you were acting like yourself again.

Just as I was beginning to enjoy the comfort of your warmth, you let go and I was dropped partly onto the couch and on your lap.

I blushed at the obvious statement this position made as you explained your sudden shift in mood. "He screwed up."

You pulled your hands up to lace your fingers together and rest your chin on top of them. It was good to see you back to your more healthy habits. "Would inconsistent booklets be voided or would the Council just reject the entire lot?" You moved back to sit better on the couch. I watched your fingers tap out some pattern on the arm of the couch. "So then, how does the Council get the information they wanted from the subordinates? Perhaps, an interview? No, if this was tampered with then they might just forget the whole thing. But if Ebner is preferred, does that mean he wins anyway?"

You seemed to mutter most of it to yourself, but it was loud enough where I felt I might have been part of the conversation. Even though I was clearly not.

I began to let my mind wander as you pondered the ramifications of Ebner's mistake. I was certainly feeling better knowing that you were happy with me again. Now the only question left was to determine whether or not to discuss the questions I had in my mind. I didn't want to upset you and there was a distinct possibility that this would do just that. However, wouldn't an adult relationship require such honesty? I can't imagine adults keeping such questions in secret from each other.

Then again, who are the adults I am referencing? If I pick my parents – ugh that bastard just fucks everything up. Okay, there's Hughes. Hughes always spoke lovey-dovey to his wife. I can't think of anything non-military that he didn't talk to her about. Then there was Izumi – there wasn't anything she was afraid to say.

As I continue to go through the list of adults in relationships I knew, the obvious suddenly occurred to me. Izumi's baby. She never said a word about trying to bring him back to life to Sig. Not a single word.

I was taken from my line of thought when I heard you say, "Hey Ed. Can you hear me?"

"Yeah, quit it."

You were waving a hand over my face as an attempt to get my attention. However, it was now making me feel cross-eyed.

"Do you do that all of the time?"

"What?"

"Do you blank out often?" You made sure to speak out each word carefully as if I was somehow slow to understand speech.

I decided to reply by rolling my eyes and stating in the most sarcastic way possible, "Yes, I think often. _You_?"

You looked ready to take my challenge when my stomach decided to loudly declare its hunger. Somewhere between speech and laughter you asked, "Are you hungry?"

I honestly don't know what's wrong with me. I had thought that the reason I ate so much was because I was supporting both my body and Al's. However, we've been separated for quite some time now and I still eat the same amount. It's like a never-ending pit. I could put most people in the poor house with my appetite.

Just add one more item to the list of weird things Edward Elric does/is.

I was thoroughly embarrassed to say yes, but you laughed it off with ease and asked me to come with you.

We left headquarters out of a back entrance for two important reasons. The first was that I had lied about retrieving a report. No one in the history of stupid people has spent over an hour picking up a report. The other was that you didn't want anyone to know that you had been here.

Part of me was wondering if the third, but unspoken, reason was that you didn't want anyone to know we were leaving together. But I quickly dispelled the notion. I just wanted things to be good right now.

After picking up a late dinner, we went back to my apartment. I had never been the cleanest person, but I did make a quick attempt at straightening up the table and living area. I also carefully picked up a sleeping Scruffy and placed him in my room. Once he was placed behind a closed door, I located the other one to place it in the dog's room and close that door.

All in all, I was clearly unprepared for your visit. I would have liked to make the place more presentable, but then again, this is me. I suppose it is better that you know now.

We ended up talking on my couch facing each other after the quick dinner. You laughed about what had happened to my alchemical journals and stated that you had copies of those issues I could borrow.

Everything between us felt good again with the exception of those nagging doubts in my mind. Then, when you tried to kiss me I knew I had to be upfront with you. It wasn't that I didn't want to kiss you, but I needed answers before I forgot myself. Something that was routinely happening around you.

My rejection had placed a confused look on your face.

I didn't want things to get serious with these doubts present. And given our track record, things were beginning to get serious. I gathered my courage to speak a few simple sentences. "Roy, I have to know something. What is this between us? Because I'm not sure."

I have never been so frightened, anxious, or proud of myself at once. It's like being beyond elated with a nervous tick and a queasy stomach. Can't say I recommend it.

You looked rather serious for a moment before you let out a sigh. "So, you really don't know?"

I felt rather offended by your remark, "Yes! It's just that . . ." I closed my eyes briefly to hide my hurt. This was truly futile. "I shouldn't have asked. Just forget it." I felt everything fall apart once more. I knew what Riza had told me and I was beginning to fear that she was right. If you couldn't understand that I needed to know this then I should just . . .

I had turned my body so that you were now facing my profile. I couldn't let you see what I was beginning to consider.

Hell, I didn't want to see myself consider it, but . . . its time had come, hadn't it?

The depressing thoughts were broken, when I heard you speak softly to me. "Ed, look. I'm not that . . . good with serious relationships."

I continued to stare forward. I didn't want an apology or an excuse. I wanted an answer.

I heard you sigh again as you tried to turn me back to face you. "Ed . . ." I could actually hear another excuse being made. And that is simply not possible.

The room grew amazingly quiet.

Finally, in a rather small, defeated voice I heard you speak, "Maybe I don't know either."

Well, that was certainly an answer, but I sure didn't expect that. I turned my head to face you surprised.

"Look, I'm good at short-term relationships. Somewhere around a couple of days to a week." I saw you grin at this. "This is something that I even I don't know about."

I finally moved back to face you. I was partly excited by this answer, but I wasn't sure exactly why. "Okay, so are we dating?" That sounded so dumb, but I knew no alternative word.

You gave me a smirk that could make women faint, "I'd say so."

I nodded my reply of understanding back. I permitted myself a small congratulations in my head before I continued with the topic of tonight, "Then, what happens when this Fuhrer thing gets bigger?"

I watched you consider the consequences of our relationship. I had already thought about this in considerable length. The result was never good. While homosexual relationships weren't unheard of in the military, they weren't exactly encouraged. Especially in the case of superior-subordinate fraternization.

"I don't know. Ideally, I would say it wouldn't change anything, but you and I know that's a lie. I suppose I had thought that we would keep it quiet until we were found out. Again, ideally, that was after I got the promotion that I may not get – maybe."

"Oh." It was the honest truth. But it hurt. So this was based on secrets.

My face must have betrayed me once again because you quickly added "I would still like to keep seeing you though."

I remained silent. I wanted to keep seeing you too, but . . . was that the smartest thing to do? It was clear that we were to keep this a secret and I wasn't sure that I wanted that. But at the same time I could still be with you. I just couldn't have a more public relationship.

Did I want a public relationship?

Maybe that fits me better than I thought. I am a rather private person.

"I would also like to sleep with you." I felt heat course through my body and settle in my groin. I pulled my head up to look at you wide eyed.

You just shrugged, "Since we are laying everything out on the table."

So you're not good at discussing any of the aspects of this relationship, but discussing your physical needs was easy. Figures.

Stunned, I stated, "I really don't know what to say to that."

"Ideally, yes is a good answer. I already know you like how I kiss."

I felt every inch of my face heat up, but I couldn't deny that you were right. I was practically ready to let you have me that first night we kissed on my doorstep. But you stopped me.

Wait.

Then, it dawned on me. Suddenly, this all made sense.

You were just as scared about this as I was. There was no way I wasn't going to call you on this. But how? Declaring that you are in fact scared was dumb. Suddenly I blurted out, "So, the playboy act a lie?"

You moved back to your seat on the couch. Apparently, you had tried to move in while I was thinking about a tangent. "Ed, you're not making any sense."

This may have started off without any real lead in, but I had never felt more right in my life – so I pushed. "No, I am. Like when you gave me this." I fumbled around for a moment before locating the key. "This key is unused and your only spare. I know because there were no others in that drawer, right? Or your," I trailed off for a moment, "your bed. No one else really sleeps there."

You fell silent.

I waited.

You broke. "What do you want me to say? That I truly don't date a lot of women? That the playboy act is a lie?" Your voice began to rise in tone.

I calmly replied, "If that's the truth." Oh, I know it is.

You leaned back against the arm of the couch to give me a withering glance. No way Roy. I'm not giving up on this one. I watched as you waited hoping I would surrender. When it became clear to you that this wasn't going to simply vanish, you stated, "I have plenty of fans, believe me, and I do date some of them."

I placed a look on my face that hopefully ask 'And?'

Grudgingly, you finished, "But I don't sleep with them – well, all of them."

I raised a single eyebrow signaling that I was awaiting the rest. Running your hand through your hair as a lingering gesture, you continued with a defeated sigh, "The whole playboy thing began as a rumor and I let it live. When it was doubted I cooked up the miniskirt scheme."

When it was doubted? What the hell does that mean?

I was about to ask when you continued, "Ed, I've always known my preference, but sometimes you try to fit in. To act normal."

Oh.

You leaned in towards me to cup my cheek in your left hand. I put up no resistance when our lips touched briefly. You sat back just a little bit to give me space. "Any more questions?"

Let's see. This had been defined as a relationship and if I was reading between the lines correctly this wasn't to be a short-term relationship either. Still, I had to keep it secret, but I was beginning to feel okay with that. After all, with the exception a few people I would want to talk to about this, I wouldn't want anyone else to know. And I'll probably tell those people anyway. Hell, Riza knew. So, I guess no. "Not at the moment."

"Hmm" was all you responded with as you began to place kisses against my neck. I felt one hand knead against my hip while the other was busy pulling my hair loose. My body was tipped backwards on the couch again.

Well, I suppose I have been putting you off for some time.

Then, the other night replayed in my head again. How could it not? We were practically in the same position.

But this was a different couch.

As the thought crossed my mind, I wondered if I should, uh, repay you for that night on the couch, but . . . I blushed at the thought.

I felt your hands underneath my shirt – your fingers running over my sides, chest and stomach. You quickly claimed my mouth with a deep kiss. My mind numbed as I felt your tongue begin to encourage my response.

As I began to slide my tongue against yours, I decided to be bold and slipped my hand lower to just brush against your groin. Our kiss broke as I heard you groan in response to my touch and I felt your rather impressive erection. The sound of us panting for breath filled the room as I swallowed nervously about how I was going to do this. Wouldn't this be a bit messy?

I slid my hand back up and in the process brushed over your heated groin once more. I watched as your eyes closed and you let out a small moan. The hand that had been in my shirt was now freed and tracing invisible patterns against the base of my neck. The other supported your weight hovering just inches above me.

I gave off a small grin of my own as I used my left hand play with the ends of your hair against the back of your neck. "Wouldn't it be rude to do this to you again?"

Your eyes gave off a feral, possessive look. I knew I was surrendering to you, but, oh, how long have I thought about this.

"I could try . . ."

I would never be able to finish that sentence. You grabbed my hair to gently pull my head back and expose my throat. I felt you begin to nip lightly at my neck before you bit at my collar – your tongue was quick to lick the wounded area. Your other hand brushed down my side one last time before you slid it down to cup my butt and press our clothed arousals together.

The entire time I was rendered unable to move. I could only respond to you through the various moans and cries that you pulled from my body. The only thing I could do . . .

I began to spread my legs in order to give you more space on the couch. Encouraged by this action, you moved your hand from my backside to slide along my left leg telling me to lock my legs around your body.

Once I had done this, I felt you lower your hips to press against me more fully. I cried out your name when I understood why you had wanted me to do this. I could feel your erection grinding against my body. Locking my eyes with yours, I saw your need. It sent a tremor up my spine to know this – I caused this. I tightened my legs around your waist to increase the delirious friction you created.

The ache low in my belly was unbearable. I had never wanted to give into you more desperately than right now. My chest tightened – shortening my breath as I gasped for more air.

Somehow you understood my submission. You stole another searing kiss from me before you asked, "Ed, can we?"

I was trying to clear the lust-hazed fog from my mind. "Umm, dog . . . in the bedroom."

"Move it."

I knew I was thoroughly seduced. I didn't want to leave your arms at all – let alone move. Another part of me wondered if I could. Once you saw that I had no intention of moving at all, you left me on the couch, touching my hair one more time, and walked toward the back rooms. After a few moments, you returned to me and guided me back into my own bedroom.

I sat on the edge of my bed staring up at you. You leaned to kiss the side of my throat as you guided my arms upwards to remove my shirt. A slight push against my shoulder acted as a hint for me to lie back onto the bed. I watched you as you crawled over my prone form until we were finally eye to eye. You cradled my head in your hands as you began another involved kiss.

I slid my arms over your shoulders in an attempt to pull you closer to me. You feel so good beneath my hand.

I began to feel impatient. I knew what we were beginning and I so desperately wanted it. With my one good hand, I release your shoulder and I began to attempt to remove your jacket.

Damn the military and all of its buttons.

You broke the kiss with a chuckle. Understanding my own desire to see you, I watched as you sat back on your calves and removed the jacket and white button-up shirt beneath it. You returned to your former position to lean in very close to whisper in my ear, "Impatient Ed?"

I shuddered at the implication. Pure desire washed over me and I wanted you so. My body arched up to push our hips together, but you held my upper body pinned to the bed. Frustrated with that attempt, I parted my legs searching for yours. I needed some part of you to touch.

I gasped when I felt you placing light kisses down my chest. I reached up to run my left hand over your back to try to get you to lower your body once more – aching for more contact. But you slipped beyond my reach when you lower your head to place a suggestive lick against my belly.

I moaned you name in a short breath. The memory of that act still fresh. It further inflamed my mind as I recalled the sensation of your mouth sucking hard at my cock – my body begging for your touch.

I felt your eyes on me as another rush of desire pulsed in my brain. You looked up at me with a grin that showed you knew what had passed through my thoughts before undoing my pants with practiced ease. I lifted my hips up to allow you to slip the material free and noticed that you had hooked your fingers into my underwear as well. You easily removed my shoes and socks before freeing me completely of any clothing. I was suddenly aware of my nakedness when I saw you staring at me.

The automail limbs must have been a sight and then when you combine it with my messy, loose hair . . .

I felt your hands running over my body as you leaned over to give me a sweet kiss me. I hadn't even realized that you were back on top of me. Then you simply stated, "Perfect." Almost as if the statement was to no one in particular – just a simple fact.

I felt my face flush. If you thought that . . . and you've been with all of those pretty women . . .

I wasn't sure how to communicate my response.

Your hands ran through my hair as you asked, "You wouldn't have any lube? Or perhaps lotion?"

Actually, after our first, umm, kiss I had purchased lube. It had been embarrassing and I wasn't sure about it, but right now I was glad that I had planned ahead. "Yeah."

You let me get up as I reached over to my nightstand. I had figured that this would be the best place for it. With the bottle in hand, I came back to you. You took it from me with an amused grin and asked, "Planning ahead."

I wrapped my arms around your shoulders and brushed my lips against yours. "Don't I always?" You laughed at the joke and deepened the kiss I began.

When we parted, you seemed eager to remove your own pants, boots, and socks. I sat on the bed expectantly as I watched you rid yourself of the items. My own anticipation rose. You looked so good – so tempting. I would have never guessed that such a large age gap existed between us. Because I certainly didn't see it. However, I began to feel nervous when I viewed your unexpected size. I had felt how big you were on the couch, but right now I wasn't feeling too sure.

We met on the bed once more with no barriers between us. I moaned as I felt your fingertips just brush over my chest running swiftly downwards. I felt the bed dip as you braced yourself above me once more.

Your voice was near ragged as you spoke, "Spread your legs, Ed."

Heat flushed through me as I obeyed your request. I closed my eyes briefly in mild embarrassment, but when you placed a reassuring kiss against my lips I looked back at you once more as you settled between my legs.

You rubbed you hands over my thighs to ease my obvious nervousness. Almost experimentally, you slid your finger underneath my aching erection coaxing another cry from me. I felt heat when your tongue ran over the head of my cock distracting me from the entrance of your first finger.

Academically, I understood how this would work, but the feeling was so foreign and strange. I heard you whisper relax as a second finger joined the first. The strange feeling persisted as you begin to stretch my entrance. I tried to focus on you but it was just so odd – so disconcerting.

Sensing my rising discomfort, you used your free hand to lightly stroke my length. The surprise of the touch made me arch my hips slightly and I felt those fingers slide deeper into my body touching something that left me panting for breath.

It felt so good – so unbelievably good.

Where the hell was that a moment ago?

A third finger was pushed into me and stroking me so wonderfully that I could barely breathe. Each slight thrust was sending jolts of pleasure up my spine. I widen my legs further and further. I wanted something . . . . more from them but I couldn't place what.

For a brief moment you removed your fingers letting that wonderful feeling ebb just slightly before returning to stretch me with a fourth. Once satisfied that I was ready, you came back up to me. Giving me another reassuring kiss, you reminded me, "Just relax."

I put together a nod of understanding as I panted for more. A small pit of anxiety settled in my stomach as you guided my legs to lock around your waist and I felt the head of your cock brush my entrance. Instinctively, my body tightened but your hands kneaded my sides as a cue to relax.

The tip of your erection began to push past my stretched muscles. My eyes shut against the feeling of intrusion while I tried to focus elsewhere – to recall that good feeling from earlier. I know you were careful but it hurt a bit.

So slowly, you rocked our bodies together until the hurt from a moment ago was lost as a new numbing ache traveled up my spine. Erasing all thought and leaving only a feeling so . . . . so indescribable. Far better than before.

Completely within me, I could hear you pant as you asked if I was ready. You were losing your patience with this. Those possessive eyes from before telling you were barely keeping control.

I cried out yes.

And I suddenly figured out that more.

I felt your length begin to slide free from my body just before thrusting back. The pace was maddeningly slow at first. I knew that it was to allow me to adjust, but . . . my patience my thinning as well.

I began to try to match your pacing as a signal that I could handle this. Lifting my hips off the mattress in a show of understanding.

The bed beneath my head dipped as you braced yourself on your forearms. I reached up to place my arm against your shoulder as you began to move faster. I moaned your name as each thrust heightened the need growing inside me. Soon our breath was shortened to quick gasps and cries of pleasure. Your hands guiding my hips to thrust in time with yours – building friction with each deep thrust.

My own mind was completely blank. Every time you brushed that spot within my body I screamed for more – harder, faster, more, more. I arched my back attempting to ease the building ache within me.

You understood my aim all too clearly.

Soon our thrusts became erratic – the rhythm lost to wild need. One of your hands moved to grip my cock in order to bring me to completion along with you. My hand found your hair as I tugged you to meet me with a hungry, sloppy kiss.

Shortly thereafter, I cried out your name as my sight faded and my body tightened. I heard you too. My name repeated on your lips as I felt your release within the confines of my body.

When we finally regained a semblance of breath, I kissed you. Something more passionate than anything before today.

A/N: Ummm, review!


	10. Chapter 10

The Morning After

The first thing I saw as I opened my eyes was the blurry face of a clock that read 7:45 in the morning. What a horrible, horrible hour. Who the hell gets up this early? Oh, yeah I already knew that answer.

I dug myself deeper into my covers seeking out your warmth – pressing my back against you. Trying to keep your arm in place, which was draped over my left side and holding us together, was proving difficult as I felt you make small sounds that indicated you were waking.

I couldn't help but wonder if you really had to go to work today. Can't you skip it like I usually do?

I felt your arm tighten around my waist as you nuzzled against the back of my head. You murmured through my hair, "Good morning, Ed."

That said, your arm left its place at my side and you rolled over onto your back. The sudden shift caused the bed to dip and forced me onto my back as well. Now that you seemed settled again, I replied back, "Morning, Roy." Well, I had tried to keep my voice neutral, but its tone was far too soft once I had said your name.

Here was the part I was afraid of. You said last night that this wasn't short term, but people can change their minds by morning. But you won't, right?

I sensed a slight depression on the mattress as I looked up to see that you had propped yourself on your right arm to look down at me. Using your free hand, you played with the longer strands of hair that framed my face – your fingertips brushing my cheek.

Softly, you asked, "How are you?"

My first thought about this was what a strange question to ask. Then, once it had dawned on me what you had meant, I blushed deeply and gave a muted fine.

Your eyes strayed from me to the clock and you mumbled something about work. I knew I couldn't keep you here, but I didn't want it to be so soon.

I watched you leave my side as you stated that you would be borrowing my shower. Not asking but rather informing me. You picked up your uniform which was neatly folded on the floor of my room. When you had the time to do this last night was beyond me.

The sound of the showerhead sputtering once before resuming its normal, constant flow signaled that you had in fact commandeered my bathroom. I lay in our combined warmth for a moment before hearing yet another sound. The sound of soft whimpering and small claws scratching at a wooden door. Oh damn. The dogs had been locked up all night.

I resigned myself to waking early and located some comfortable clothing to thrown on. In my quick search for clothing of my own, a small metal clink directed my attention to the floor. It was the spare key to my apartment – the one I had refused to give to Kain. Picking up the small object, I allowed a small smile to form of my face.

Opening the door to the dogs' room, I quickly moved out of the way as two balls of fur flew from the room, down the hallway, and out the doggy door into the backyard. I must admit, Kain had done an excellent job in training them. As I looked around the room, there was no sign of an accident anywhere.

I walked back to my room just in time to hear the shower cut off. Either you were really quick in the morning or you were in a hurry. I stood outside the door of my own bathroom wondering what I should do. Should I say something to you?

New questions began to form themselves in my mind and I cursed myself. Last night, I had finally gotten the answers I sought from you. And now I wanted more?

I'm rather demanding aren't I?

I could feel your smirk as I left my thoughts. Looking up, I confirmed that a smug smirk was lining your face.

"What?"

"Really Ed, what are you doing?"

"Nothing," I pouted in return.

You walked out the bathroom wearing the day old uniform that looked perfectly pressed. The only sign of imperfection was the feint wrinkles on your white, button-up shirt. An imperfection that would be completely covered all day long. There wouldn't be any sign that you had spent the night away from home.

I frowned at this revelation, but I wasn't sure what I was more upset about. The fact that you knew how to fix your uniform so perfectly after spending the night at a different place or that your uniform was perfect. A few sloppy wrinkles here and there would be some kind of indication that you slept over.

Then again, that would ruin our secret relationship, so I suppose that this would be for the better.

Your deep voice reached into my musing, " . . . overanalyzing this."

"Huh?"

"I said you're overanalyzing this."

I had taken residence on the end of the bed after you scared me away from the bathroom door. I watched as you went down onto your knees to look me in the eyes. Brushing some errant strand of hair from my face, you continued, "Don't think too much about this. It's easier for me if you don't take things seriously too quickly." You pressed a soft kiss against my mouth and then whispered in an amused voice, "I scare easily."

I gave a soft smile back knowing how difficult it is for you to admit any weakness. You're right. I can't change who you are and I don't want to. All you are asking me is to move slowly – emotionally. I can do that. That's all you are asking of me. "Okay. For now."

A surprisingly deep growl came from the bedroom doorway. Scruffy stood there growling so deeply that his body shook when he took another breath. While I was sure he was trying to be menacing, being slightly under a foot tall didn't help.

I was suddenly hit with a realization regarding my own stature.

Scruffy barked and continued to growl.

You blinked at the miniature dog and asked, "What's wrong with him?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's mad we left him locked in that room all night long." I walked towards Scruffy to move him. However, Scruffy had other plans. He darted passed me and leveled himself against you. Scruffy began to hop on his hind legs while rotating between barking, growling, and breathing. Well, that made things rather clear. "Or maybe he doesn't like you."

I quickly grabbed the jumping dog and held him to my chest. "He's never done this before."

You quickly dismissed the dog. "He looks young. I'm sure he just needs a little more discipline."

At this Scruffy, barked once more.

I laughed, "Or maybe you need to watch out."

I walked out into the main living area and dumped Scruffy in the backyard. I dropped a fitted piece of wood over the doggy door to lock them both outside. Even as I did so, Scruffy stood on his hind legs placing his black paws against the door that led into the backyard. He shook as he let out muffled growls.

Disregarding Scruffy's odd behavior for a moment, I took the spare key I kept for you and clutched my fist around it. When I met you at the door, I abruptly and without any explanation whatsoever held the key out to you. It took a moment for you to figure out what I was doing before you took the small metal offering.

All you said in reply was "Thank you."

Thereafter, a few quick good-byes were exchanged before you left for Central Command. You, also, made sure I was coming in today and I agreed I would. Then I watched you walk away to work.

It was close to 11 o'clock in the morning before I showed myself in your office. Hawkeye looked up briefly and smiled back at me as I took the paperwork from her desk.

It's true, I had to accept paperwork as a part of my life now. Somehow I don't remember the clause where I agreed to fill out mindless forms when I signed up as a State Alchemist.

Then, again there was a chance that the clause really did exist since I have never read the contract.

I borrowed Kain's desk to work from since he wasn't here. There was a good chance he was fixing something somewhere and even if he did return he wouldn't ask me to leave. I stared at the forms before me. Unlike you, I actually had to read these things. I couldn't just sign and stack, sign and stack. It was more like read, read, read a little more, curse, scratch down an answer, sign, and stack.

I must have found a rhythm to this horrible task because before I knew it I could hear you arguing with Hawkeye that you required a lunch break. I looked up and watched your door close with a sharp click with Hawkeye's hand resting lightly on the rounded, brass knob.

She walked over to her desk, quietly stacked more papers and then turned on the others. "Falman. Havoc. Since you are back from your lunch break please ensure that the General completes the work I have given him." She took the stack of papers she had in hand and walked over to the boys. Separating the stack of papers perfectly in half, she handed one half to each man. "Then, once he has finished that, he can begin on these." She smiled at them, but the sweet almost motherly smile contained a deadly promise of injury by bullet if either of them gave into your demands for a break.

She turned sharply away from Falman and Havoc leaving them in a state of fear. Hawkeye then walked over to me. My first instinct was terror based on the performance I had just witnessed. However, once I heard her tone of voice my fear vanished. "Why don't we take a break, Ed?"

"Sure."

At one o'clock the military cafeteria was still crowded. This was fine for me because a quieter atmosphere would have allowed eavesdropping to occur.

We settled at a mostly deserted table with other military personnel quite far from us. Riza arranged her items just so as I began to eat my sandwich. She calmly took a sip of her tea before stating, "What happened between you two?"

I felt my eyes widen as I swallowed my food. Damn, she is perceptive. "W-what do you mean?"

"Don't make me drag it out of you. He was flipping rapidly between pouting, being pissed off, and depressed last night. I figured that I would find him in the morning asleep on his couch. The bottle of bourbon not far."

Yeah, that's just about where I found you. "Oh."

Riza raised an eyebrow as if to say 'Oh? You better to give me something.'

I really didn't want to blurt out that I had sex with you last night. So I did the only thing I could, I continued eating.

Riza frowned and seemed to recalculate her approach. "So . . . did you finally talk to him regarding your questions?"

Mimicking her calm demeanor, I drank from my tea before answering, "Yes."

Immediately Riza gave me a look that stated 'And!'

I couldn't stop the mischievous grin from spreading on my face. "Let's just say, I learned that I'm working towards something long term – hopefully. But the thought still makes him nervous." I paused, "And I know the truth behind the miniskirts."

The smile that Riza gave me showed how happy she was for me. "That's good. I was hoping I wouldn't have to shoot him." She took a brief moment, "But miniskirts?"

"A lie."

"Really?"

"Yup."

"Huh."

She let me resume my lunch before she dropped the next question, "When did you talk?"

I started, "La-a-later on after we talked."

"Who talked?"

"You and me."

"What day was that again?"

"How should I know if you don't even remember?"

We locked eyes in a small battle of wills. Fortunately for Riza, hers was greater than mine. I looked down at the table and surrendered with an "Okay."

Riza let me continue, "I saw him last night. And heading towards the condition you described. We first talked about those damned booklets and I told him what was in them. Then, somehow, we got to talking about . . ."

Riza gestured to me that she was following.

"And that's what happened."

"That's it."

I looked away toward the large window that overlooked the barren cement docking area. "Yeah."

"Hmm," I could feel her eyes boring into me – fraying my nerves. "You 'just talked'. That's all it took to . . . "

That's when the most wonderful idea struck me – escape and now. "Well, gotta go. Lunch is almost over." I stood up to make a quick escape leaving behind a rather suspicious Riza.

I had thought that was going to be the worst part of today. Wow, was I wrong. Around 3:30 in the afternoon, around the time when personnel begin to stop working and begin counting down the minutes by playing, two serious looking officers arrived at the office. The first of the two was a rather tall, bulky man with dark short cropped hair and a stiff posture. The second one was shorter than the first which I estimated to be about 5 foot 8 or 9 inches. His messy pale brown hair and frighteningly cheery disposition made him a stark contradiction to the first officer.

The stiff officer spoke, "The Council requests the presence of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye and Major Edward Elric at conference room four in 15 minutes."

The other followed up, "Attendance is mandatory."

Then they sharply turned and walked away. It was almost as if they hadn't really existed at all.

The office, however, was completely floored. Hawkeye just sat at her desk holding a stack of papers and staring at the now empty doorframe. Breda was still cowering in his chair while Havoc was frozen kneeling on Breda's desk holding a stuffed dog over Breda's head. Beside Havoc, Kain had been halted mid-plea for the return of his precious toy. Falman stood in the middle of the room holding files with his head turned to face the door.

And I sat at Kain's desk, pen in hand, glancing between the sight the two officers had walked in on and staring at the doorframe myself.

Finally, you broke the eerie scene with, "What the hell was that?"

Everyone moved freely into more relaxed positions. Hawkeye simply stated, "I don't know, but, Edward, we have to go."

I nodded back and followed her with my mind blank all the way to conference room four.

When we arrived at the meeting room, I saw other personnel from other General's offices. There was anywhere from one to two people from each office. Each of us looked confused and anxious at this abrupt gathering.

The two officers returned.

The same tall, stiff officer spoke, "The Council has reviewed the results the booklets have provided. Each of you selected will be called in individually to interview room two. You cannot leave this room under any condition until you have gone to interview room two."

The happy-creepy officer completed these instructions with, "Overtime will be paid in the event that these meetings go beyond your scheduled shift."

The first spoke again, "Will First Lieutenant Jillian Gould please follow me?"

A tall dark haired woman rose a few seats down from Hawkeye and myself to follow the stiff officer. The other one remained to watch over us.

I guess talking is prohibited too.

One by one different officers were selected to leave while the remaining group stared longingly at the clock as time ticked by. It was almost five o'clock when I heard my own name called. The happy-creepy officer led me out of the room and separated me from a still anxious Hawkeye.

The hallway was strangely quiet with only the painfully sharp clack of his boots breaking the silence. When we reached the interview room, he simply gestured at the door and opened it quietly for me. A single chair had a light hanging over it plunging the rest of the room into darkness. Even though I could not see other people, I could feel their presence.

After I had sat down in the chair, I heard the familiar voice of the old Council member speak, "Major Elric, you will answer quickly, honestly, and succinctly to the following."

I felt my eyes widen as the heat from the light began to make me uncomfortable. I felt the need to fidget more desperately than any other time – the toe of my boot eager to grind against the floor boards.

"Major Elric," a different aging voice asked, "Did you or did you not speak to your superior regarding the booklets distributed to you and your fellow officers?"

Oh, well, yeah, sort of. "I did so, sir, after myself and everyone else had filled out the booklets."

"How can you be sure?"

"It was Wednesday night." Ha, so there!

"Why did you do this?"

"I felt he should know." That was true enough.

"Do you know if anyone else spoke to your superior?"

"No member of General Mustang's unit, other than myself at the specified time, spoke to General Mustang." What a weird sentence, but that's formal military speech for you. "I did, however, hear a rumor that General Ebner did speak to General Mustang regarding the booklets prior to Wednesday evening."

"When did you hand in your booklet?"

"Tuesday."

"The answers contained in your unknown booklet. Are they truthful?"

"To the best of my abilities."

"Can you locate your booklet in this stack?"

Another overhead light switched on forcing me to squint. Each of the gathered booklets were piled into stacks that were in danger of toppling. I moved from my seat to the booklets and began to leaf through them. After some time, I located my booklet. "This is it."

The rest of the overhead lights flickered on blinding me further. "Please hand that over to me."

I walked over to the elderly man and placed the booklet in his hands. He casually flipped the pages and looked up at me. "Reiterate what is contained in these pages."

I let out a quick breath before I began to review my overall opinion of each General. Once again, Ebner was far too easy and you were far too difficult.

"Why would General Mustang fail as Fuhrer?"

My eyes widened in surprise. They wanted your faults. "He lacks focus for administrative duties and has difficulty addressing administrative issues."

"That's all?"

"All that I can think of at this moment." I knew I was slipping into my sarcastic ways, but really!

"Who do you want to see succeed as Fuhrer? Think carefully Major Elric, the Fullmetal Alchemist."

An interesting way of addressing me. What did that mean? Well, who would I want? Let's see . . . hmm . . . nope it's still obvious. "Mustang."

I heard a few sighs from the old men. "Because he is your superior."

Another, "Mustang really does garner loyalty."

Another, "What could we expect?"

And still another, "Asking this is a waste of time."

I felt my own anger rising at these comments. How dare they! "No!" My voice rang out loudly above theirs. "That's not it at all. Mustang truly cares about the military, about this country and its people. He has already seen Bradley's mistakes and actually learned from them." For their benefit I placed a strong emphasis on 'learned'. "In all my years here, I have seen no one else who aspires to help this place more. The others simply want power. Ask yourselves this, do you want another King Bradley?" My body trembled and my nerves were beyond shot. But the short rant felt good.

Still, what was going on here?

The elderly Council member I recognized spoke, "Thank you for your time Major Elric." He glanced at the clock behind him. "You may go home."

The hell you say!

"That's it! You drag me and everyone else out of our jobs to waste our time and that's all we get! Who the fuck do you people think you are? We have lives you know. We didn't wait until the last possible moment to call some mysterious fucked up interview session that lasts until who knows when. The least you can do is tell me what the hell is going on!" If I wasn't drained physically and emotionally from my respective outburst before, I was now. That's it. That's all I have left.

The room grew quiet. The aged men glanced back and forth at each other. Finally, my familiar old codger spoke, "You may go home now."

Fucking old man!

The look of complete exasperation spread across my face while a look of complete satisfaction grew on his. In all honesty, I didn't want to back down. I was right and damn it all I should get an answer.

"Please Major Elric, we have others to interview still."

I was at a complete loss of words. That old man had the balls to turn my argument against me. I opened and closed my mouth searching for something to say – anything to wipe that self-satisfied look off his face.

But in the end, there was absolutely nothing I could do.

Fuck it all, I tried.

As I left the interview room, I saw the quickly disappearing figure of the happy-creepy officer going down the hallway. Back to get another one.

I was directed through a series of winding hallways that ultimately led to outside of the conference room hall corridor. For a brief moment I stood there in the dingy, white hallway attempting to regulate my breathing.

I was frustrated and irritated beyond belief.

I want to . . . no need to vent this aggravation out on someone. Those old fools have managed to push me to a point of irritation that I haven't felt in . . . in, gah! I don't know how long! I felt ready to level the entire hall. The reason I didn't is because I am quite fond of Riza and, even buried under rubble, she would find and kill me for it.

A/N: Okay this ends all of my old-er material. Starting next chapter is my return to writing. Yay! As always please review. I live for it.


	11. Chapter 11

Fall Out

With my so-called interview completed, the ridiculously complicated walk through the halls did little to ease my climbing fury. I mean who the fuck designed this place? A topologist with a flair for architecture*?

I didn't even have a chance to talk to Riza one more time – to have someone to vent my feelings to.

It made me want to see you. At the thought, I reached for the small set of keys I had in my pant's pocket – taking hold of yours.

I also wanted . . . no _needed_ to tell you what had just happened.

I made a wrong turn to the left and discovered the Custodian's supply closet. I just about punched a hole in the door. But it wasn't the closet's fault that I made a wrong turn trying to exit this absurd building – it was those fucking old men's fault!

Stomping back up the hallway, making a _right_, I opened up a side door that led to the outdoor parade grounds. Outside! It was about fucking time! I glared the back at the building as if willing it to be suddenly swallowed up by the ground beneath it.

I got far enough away from the building that I felt sufficiently safe to rant and rave – venting some of my irritation on the sparse vegetation unfortunate enough to stand in my way. Stopping, I stood still clenching my fists at my sides to relieve the quaking coursing through my body. Flexing my fingers to force my fists to open and closed, I felt the rush of blood return to my left hand making the dull sting of metal digging into my closed fist real.

I opened my fist to reveal my small set of keys – along with its accompanying imprint – in the palm of my hand. Of course. Now isn't the time to throw a temper tantrum – even a rather reserved one.

I had to get back to you.

I had to let you know what was going on.

I need to let you know how completely biased the entire Council was.

The thought paused a beat in my mind – like you didn't already know.

"Ed! Hold on."

I had finally cleared my focus when I heard Riza call out to me. I casually put my left hand into my pant's pocket and returned the keys to it. Now wasn't the time for that particular conversation. Turning to look back at her, "Hey, Riza, you got out of there fast."

Or I was really that lost.

Rage does funny things.

"I suppose," she replied once we met up. Her eyes looked so tired right now. Their brown depths unusually unfocused. She quickly glanced around the parade grounds from the conference room hall. Even though there was still a shred of fading light outside, we were standing in the looming shadow of Central Command's main building. "Do you have some time?"

Well, I suppose so, but I really want to get back to you. "I guess."

"Good, follow me."

We quickly returned to your office to gather up our forgotten things and closed it for the day. Nice to know that your underlings can't even do this without Riza. Once completed, Riza led me out a back door to the vehicle parking lot. I don't know how she did it, but she located the correct vehicle in a myriad of cookie-cutter, official military black cars. There hadn't been a moment of hesitation in her step.

As she unlocked the doors, she must have noted my quizzical look. "Ed, what are you doing?"

"Trying to figure out how you knew this was the right car."

Riza let out an amused laugh. It sounded like she desperately needed to as well. "Easy, look here." When I followed the line from her finger to the car's engine cover where there were small scratches in the black paint. "And here. And here." She pointed out a few dents and what appeared to be a repainted burn mark.

I compared it to the other cars beside it. All of which were bearing pristine, glossy black paint jobs.

I suppose I hadn't noticed it right away since it was so dark.

Yeah, that made me feel better.

Riza got into the driver's compartment as I slid into the passenger's side. "It's easy to see the differences when you know where to look."

I turned to look at her. For a moment, I saw her customary smile before that weary expression returned to her face.

Riza, of all things, drove to your house. Eh, it saves me from walking to it. I was coming here anyway. Not that she knew that.

Before either of us had reached the third and final step to your doorway, you opened the front door as if you were expecting us. I was about to say 'hi' when Riza hurried me inside.

I soon discovered the reason for her abrupt behavior once we were comfortably seated inside your living room. Apparently, without my even knowing it, you both had agreed to meet up tonight. In the span of a few moments, you two had communicated this before Riza and I went to conference room four.

Without any words.

The realization of this fact left an uncomfortable heavy feeling in my chest and a sudden zest for random destruction.

How could you share something like that?

When I didn't.

Logic reminded me that you both have known each other for quite some time and that even Al and I shared a similar bond. But Al and I were brothers it was only natural. Riza . . . she was . . . she wasn't related to you. The feeling pulled my head down – my bangs falling to obstruct my face.

Logic piped up again. In the six years I've known you, I spent a large portion of it either far away from you on a train to somewhere or fulfilling my former childish role. It has only been a short while since we got to meet the real versions of each other.

But dammit it all, logic sounded so . . . reasonable.

Riza sat in a chair directly across from the couch I was sitting on as you brought in three mugs of coffee. Somewhere in my musings I had selected this seat. Handing Riza her mug first, then taking your own and mine into your hands as you sat next to me on your couch. Once you were seated, you handed my mug to me. I quickly made good use of the mug's hot contents to cover up my warming face.

I remember this couch.

Suddenly the gnawing feeling in my chest vanished.

I really need to stop this sling-shot of emotions. It can't be good for me.

I left my introspection when I heard Riza begin our little meeting. "I'm glad I was able to catch up to you, Ed. Now we can end this quickly." Riza lifted the mug and took a drink. "This is rather exhausting."

You nodded in agreement. "So, what was it about?"

"It was an inquisition. The Council obviously suspects that the result of the booklets has been tampered with and attempted to pull information from us directly."

"Yeah, so much for anonymous responses," I muttered.

"That too," Riza affirmed. "I don't know what went on in Ed's . . . interview. But it was clear that they were shaken when I arrived afterwards."

A sudden giddiness overcame me. So I had gotten to those bastards! I could feel a maniacal grin spread across my face. In turn, I could sense a growing feeling of dread coming from you.

Using that militaristic tone I detest so much, you narrowed your attention on me – and not the kind I liked. "Ed."

Placing on my best I'm-so-innocent look, which I knew was doomed to fail, "Aw, it wasn't that bad. I just let them know what I thought. Wasn't that the point?"

Clearly you were unconvinced. The frown currently taking residence on your face remained and that pesky right eyebrow lifted in an unspoken demand of 'spill it'.

"Alright, alright." I lifted my right hand in a mock symbol of surrender. "They wanted to know if I talked to Roy about the booklets."

Riza frowned at this. I knew she had, well, stuck to her guns about her policy of silence. But I had also already told her about this – so what was the frown for?

"I told them I had spoken to you but only after the deadline for the booklets had passed. So I knew that there was no way this knowledge could have interfered with the Council's intent." Riza seemed to relax at this bit of information. Ah, so that's what the frown was for, "Next, they wanted to know if I answered the questions honestly. To ensure that I wasn't lying, they have me provided an on-the-spot summary of my opinion of each General in the booklet."

I looked at Riza to see if the line of questioning had occurred to her too. She gave a single nod of affirmation.

That out of the way. "Then the Council wanted to know why I thought you," I pointed at you for emphasis, "would be a bad Fuhrer. I said you were terrible at administrative functions."

Riza choked on a laugh and you tried to look indignant. At least that lightened the mood here.

"Finally, they asked who I thought should be made Fuhrer. When I replied 'Mustang', the Council quickly dismissed my response as misplaced loyalty. This, naturally, irked me."

Whew, that was a long monologue of information. Satisfied that I had revealed this pertinent information, I took a drink from my mug. Don't want it to get cold – cold coffee is rather nasty. I fitted myself into the corner of the couch between the arm and backrest; tucking my automail left leg under my right. Now I could look at both of you without too much movement. I should have done this earlier.

A fleeting look of horror crossed your face. Lowering your voice to a threatening level, "Ed, what did you say next?"

Do you think I'm that dull? Sure I have my moments, but come on.

After another drink from the mug to make you wait a moment longer, "I said that my opinion wasn't founded on loyalty. That you, unlike the others, weren't power hungry. That you actually care about what the position means." Okay that sounded better than what I actually said to the Council, but, what the hell, not like you'll know.

"And that's all?"

"Uh, no."

"No?" Your voice picked up an octave.

"Yeah, they dismissed that too. So I told them that I wanted to know what this was all about. After all, they decided to drag us in to be interviewed," I placed a sarcastic tone on the word interviewed, "without any way of delaying it and at the last possible minute of the day. It was completely inconsiderate."

"And that is all?"

"Yeah, they told me to go home. Even used my own argument against me." I muttered the last sentence in irritation. I still hated that the old man thought he could get away with that. So he's a Council member – big deal.

One little clap and I could launch him to Briggs.

Riza decided to add her thoughts, "Roy, this isn't a problem. In fact, it shows conviction. Besides the finally commentary from Ed, my interview was exactly the same. I also thought you were lacking in administrative duties. After all, I wonder what happens when I'm not there to put a gun to your head. You probably laze the day away talking to yet another new . . . " Riza cut herself off.

There was no hiding it. I knew what came next. 'Another new girlfriend.' A fact that threatened my comfort on the couch.

You set down your mug on the coffee table before us. Then hunched over to place your elbows on your knees while rested your head in your hands. It was such a defeated looking position. It made the coffee feel sour in my empty stomach.

"I also chose you, Roy, to be Fuhrer and like Ed they believe it was loyalty that directed my answer."

Poor Riza. Although her comment had set me on edge, I could see she was trying to cover up her mistake. I knew, _knew_, it was an off-hand comment. Something that rolls off the tongue after years of repeating the phrase – just like my petulant child act.

Even with all that knowing the words still dug into the suspicious crevices of my mind to take root. At any other time, I would have found a flustered Hawkeye amusing but right now . . .

You pulled you head up, laced your fingers together in a sign that you somehow pieced together something that Riza and I had missed. "You're right Riza, this isn't a problem and yet it is."

Okay, now I'm thoroughly confused. Huh?

"Ed, you do remember our conversation regarding the booklets?"

"Yeah." I pushed myself forward to the couch's edge.

"I told you that Ebner had made a mistake."

"Un huh."

Riza interrupted, "Wait, what?"

I needed to catch Riza up fast so I could hear whatever it was that you had discovered. "I told Roy that there were closed-ended and open-ended questions in the booklet. And that the open-ended questions were a sort of verification of the closed-ended questions. When Ebner bragged about knowing what the booklets were about, he told Roy that they were all closed-ended questions."

Roy picked up where I left off, "Exactly. So if the questions didn't match up, the Council would know that the responses were falsified. In order to rectify this, they tried to pull information from the staff directly but chose a smaller pool. The reason they chose the particular members of that pool to be interviewed I don't know. But it boils down to the fact that extracting information from the staff is a failure."

The news left me dumbfounded. "So . . . all that work for nothing?" How can that be?

"Not entirely. It proves that the Generals involved are playing dirty. It also proves that I received a more favorable review from the staff than expected." That characteristic grin returned to your face along with that overwhelming sense of confidence. "If I didn't, why would they dismiss both of your selections as 'loyalty'? They must be trying to discount the people who picked me."

"In order to even it out with Ebner." My mind had finally caught up and began running at full force. The intricacies of the facts were amazingly clear. The Council had set Riza and me up for failure. "But my commentary would prove that it isn't just loyalty."

I hadn't meant to say that out loud. Mostly, because it proves that my outburst was both stupid and ill-timed.

Brilliant Ed.

You turned to me, "And that's why this is also bad. They now know they will have to discredit my supporters further." You took a brief pause, "Beginning with my top two subordinates."

By now Riza must have caught on too, "Hmm, trying to bring you down by taking out your confidant and your . . . public image. Would that really work? I can understand targeting me, but making a mockery of Ed could backfire. The people love him."

I suppress a smirk budding on my lips. Public image, hmm?

You didn't falter, "All too true. Especially in the smaller regions, 'The Peoples' Alchemist' is far too popular. So, how would they do it?"

The room dropped into sudden silence.

I glanced between you and Riza for a few moments before I decided that enough was enough. Breaking the sudden silence, "Which tells us we have no idea what the implications might be. We only know that the Council is working against us." I have to be practical. We could guess all night and still not have a clue.

"Once again Ed's right." Riza stated with an undertone of humor.

"I suppose." You gave me a small smile.

"So you're really going to have to watch that." Riza stated in her matter-of-fact way.

You nodded grimly. And I felt my breath hitch – always secretive. I know I told myself it was okay but, whenever it is worded like that, it leaves me with an ugly impression.

Like I'm not worth being open about.

Just your dirty little secret.

Oh, there's that uncomfortable gnawing sensation again.

Hello.

"I suppose you're right." Your eyes widened as it dawned on you that you hadn't told Riza about us – not really. "How?"

Riza smiled and sat back in the chair she occupied – the soft leather silent. She was completely in control and she loved it. "Oh, I know all about it."

Roy looked in my direction and I attempted my innocent look for the second time that night. I'm really going to need Al to give me the secret for his innocent look because everyone buys his. Mine, not so much. "Know what exactly."

"This and that. I was going to watch you both for a little while more before I said anything but circumstances dictate otherwise."

"This and that?"

"Yes, you're quite the actor, General _miniskirt_."

I'm going to pay for that one.

"Anything else?"

"Don't make me threaten you. I'm tired from doing it all day long."

"Understood."

This unspoken understanding between you two.

I want to be that close with you. Maybe if we were, I could let you know that she's bluffing you. She didn't know half of what happened between us – I edited out all of those parts by politely running away.

Riza took in a deep breath, "Well, since this is going nowhere, we really shouldn't dawdle, Ed let's go."

But I don't wanna go.

I quickly glanced in your direction and you gave me a defeated sigh. "Yeah, I'm coming"

At the doorway, Riza gave you a quick good-bye as I was once again hurried out your door and back into the car. From my seat in the passenger's side, I heard Riza provide an excuse for our after hours visit. "Oh, and sir, next time please don't leave such important documents behind again."

"Thank you, Lieutenant. Good night."

Riza got into the driver's side and gave me a comforting smile. "Time for us to go home as well."

I was feeling a little surly since she was being rather overprotective of me. I mean, okay, staying over any longer would have ruined her dropping off documents excuse. But I wanted to stay – that had been my intent from the beginning.

Perhaps, she knew more than I told her.

Once we were both inside the car, "You know I'm going to pay for that miniskirt comment."

Riza gave a rather secretive smile, "I know."

Isn't that great?

Then she added, "How about picking up something to eat? My treat."

That still doesn't make up for it. "Sure."

Riza stopped by a little place she knew where we both picked up dinner to go. I was rather hungry if the loud growl in my stomach was indication enough. Once we arrived at my apartment, I got out and told Riza I'd see her tomorrow around ten or eleven in the morning.

As she drove off to her apartment, I felt a sudden wariness.

It was as if I was being watched.

I returned to Central Command the next day around ten in the morning. The eerie sensation of being watched last night gave me a rather long and sleepless night. Which was followed up with a rather jittery morning.

Lack of sleep will do that to you.

It also didn't help that the dogs had been going crazy all night long. Barking and running back and forth from the front door to my bedroom – sometimes to the side of the apartment. Making me believe someone or something was out there.

But calling you this late would be too suspicious – right?

Even though I'm not generally a morning person, I was wide awake at six with no hope of getting any rest. I ended up padding about the house just waiting for the time to pass. Naturally it was just in time for the dogs to tire and the barking to cease. Giving me four long, boring hours with nothing to do.

If I came in too early everyone would be suspicious. That's why ten was the perfect time. Early enough so I could end this pacing about and yet late enough that no one would think twice.

When I finally arrived at your office, it wasn't business as usual. In fact, the entire place was working quickly and quietly. Kain was attempted to resurrect a phone that you probably demolished – and _I'm_ destructive – while Havoc, Breda, and Falman were involved in a round robin of paperwork shuffling. There was no smoking, newspaper reading, or threats/teasing involving stuffed dogs.

Facts that pushed me out further on the edge.

Riza had just walked out of your office into the outer office as I surveyed the room. She took one quick glance at me and beckoned me over to her desk with a wave of her hand. There she wrote a quick note on a small scrap of paper.

Being watched.

My heart quickened. By who? Starting when?

The small note in my hands suddenly caught fire as I belatedly realized I hadn't heard you snap. I dropped it as it turned to ash before even hitting the floor.

"Fullmetal, it's good to see you're in already. Come with me." You opened the door to the hallway and waited for me to follow.

We walked to the library, passed the main greeting area, and back into the alchemical wing. It made sense. Even if we were being watched only a select few were allowed in this wing. Whoever it was would need an alchemist to get back here.

Or work for the library I thought dejectedly.

Just as the thought crossed my mind, Scieszka appeared from behind a bookshelf pushing her reshelf cart. The cart was loaded with dimly colored books waiting to be returned to their proper location on the shelves. And most likely each one was read before it was returned by Scieszka.

She passed by us humming some tune then whispered, "All clear." She continued humming the tune.

With this cue, you selected an area in the back of the stacks before speaking a word. "Did anything happen last night?"

A warm feeling held me for a moment, "Nothing exactly, but the dogs were going crazy all night long. Who was it?"

"Do you know what time they stopped 'going crazy'?"

"It was about six or so in the morning. Roy?"

You demeanor was extremely tense. Usually you just frown at bad news but today it was more like a scowl.

"It started last night when Riza and you left my home. I didn't see it myself but she thought she caught a familiar face from Ebner's staff. That's when she declared that she had been there to deliver paperwork."

A door opened and closed in the distance shattering the quiet surrounding us. It sounded like it came from the door leading to the criminal records wing.

We stood in eerie silence.

This is why a library is a bad place to exchange secrets.

I'm contradicting myself.

Satisfied that whoever it was had left, "She called me once she got home to tell me about the possible spy as Elizabeth." You paused long enough to take in a shaky breath. "I had hoped that you weren't targeted since she didn't see anything noteworthy when she dropped you off. But there was no way to contact you," your voice dropping to a whisper as you reached out to run the long strands of my hair between your forefinger and thumb. Barely brushing against my jaw as the hand passed by.

Feeling a little bold, I reached up with my left hand to lightly touch your hand as it followed the path from my hair to hang briefly in the empty air between us – where we finally broke contact.

I knew I had to continue this discussion whether I wanted to or not – despite the obvious consequences. "R . . . ah, was it only last night?"

You forced the worry from your eyes in order to replace it with your usual stern expression. "All of our information indicates so."

So they didn't know about the past couple of weeks. Our secret remains unknown. Relief flooded my senses momentarily.

Your frown deepened, "However, not even Breda has been successful in confirming this."

Shit.

I shut my eyes briefly as I gathered up enough courage to do the right thing. I quieted the voice in the back of mind that begged me not to and swallowed the fear the rose in my throat. Letting out a heavy breath, "What does this mean?"

The words tumbled from my mouth – each bringing a graver sense of termination between us. While I tried my best to look neutral, I hoped for the first time that my transparency would save me. That you would see.

Please don't say it.

A sad look crossed over your face and I knew it.

Of all the times – now you don't hide anything.

There wasn't even anything to feel.

Just an all encompassing numbness.

You passed your right hand over your face stopping to hold it over your mouth.

The fear died. In its place cold realization.

Dropping it back to your side, "I didn't . . . I don't have . . . "

You fumbled for the words to say 'it's over'. I had known all along that this wasn't going to last. But I still had stupidly hoped. Hoped that whatever it was that scared you away from others wouldn't scare you away from me.

I tried not to be demanding.

I accepted your need to reign in emotional ties even as physical wants ran rampant.

I knew everything hinged on secrecy.

Now I would have to . . .

"That's it, right?" I knew that an apology was forming in your mind the second I finished. I lowered my head finding a familiar solace behind my long hair once again. "Don't, okay? I understand – really."

I understood that no matter what I felt, I would be a roadblock in your path. A temptation from your goals. A nasty piece of blackmail. I didn't want that. I knew what it was like to focus on a goal. No matter how farfetched or unattainable. I wouldn't be the person to snatch it from your hands.

I never wanted to be a regret.

I wanted to be the person who helped you achieve.

I just wanted to help you in a different way. This way is so painful. In a sick twist of irony, I finally had a place with you. It was my job to let you go guilt free.

You reached out and cupped my chin in your hand. But you didn't force me to look up. I barely heard you speak, "Thank you."

Thank you for understanding. Thank you for knowing enough to let it end.

The worst kind of gratitude.

I waited until I heard the click of military boots before I slumped against a bookshelf and slid to the ground. My throat so tight – all I could do was take in stunted breaths. I forcefully dammed the water swelling in my eyes.

For once I hated the silence that permeated the library and wished for deafening noise.

I spent the weekend immobile.

I had cried.

Cried until all that was left were dry sobs and a pounding headache. Cried until I couldn't breathe out my nose. My chest shaking to take in each breath.

I didn't even know how to feel better. Scruffy was an absolute mess trying frantically to cheer me up. But nothing in his doggy abilities could make me smile.

My phone rang once on Friday night. It was Riza calling to see if she could help. All I told her was that I wouldn't be coming to work for awhile. Then I hung up.

I knew that it wasn't fair to her, but that was all I was capable of doing. Anything more . . . I couldn't give.

I had spent it all on you.

On Saturday, I toyed with the idea of running back to Al. Because no matter how hurt I was, Al would be there.

And he wouldn't ask a thing.

On Sunday, I decided that going back to Resembool was out of the question. I had to stay here. If I went back, Winry would want to know what happened – despite Al's interference. If I went back, how would I explain it to Central Command. They begin an inquiry into your staff and I disappear – run away to Resembool? I might as well fly a flag that says I know how to destroy you.

So here I remained.

My stupid loyalty to you intact.

I barely ate. I haven't left my bed. And there was no sign that I was changing this any time soon.

And the fact that hurt the worst?

I knew you were just fine – after all I made sure you were.

*A mathematician named Leonhard Euler was among the first to analyze plane mazes providing significant contribution to the development of topology. Topology is a mathematical field that studies object deformations (such as stretching, but not ripping) within geometry and set theory. Such items include the Mobius Strip. I used topology because it is older and thus more in line with the FMA universe. Furthermore, the idea of studying deformations in a military setting amused me greatly, it sounded a whole hell of a lot better than the cliché "rats in a maze" statement, and it permits the idea of the hallway stretching into perpetuity.

A/N: Hooray for new material! Review – it brightens my day.


	12. Chapter 12

Rumor

The sound of my front door being unlocked woke me on Monday morning. Normally, the thought that someone unknown was entering my home would spike my adrenaline through the roof. But I was far from normal.

It was Kain.

I dragged myself out of bed in time to watch him shut the door behind him. Riza must have been worried. I guess she thought I wouldn't take it out on Kain.

He surveyed the room and my deplorable condition, "Hi, Ed."

"Hi." I slumped into my overstuffed chair.

"Hawkeye asked me to check up on you. I guess you're sicker than she thought?"

I'm sick?

Oh, that's my excuse. How lovely that it was supplied for me. I muttered something incomprehensible and intentionally so.

"Do you need anything? I can come by after work and bring you something to eat."

I knew Kain was trying to be helpful but at the moment I wanted him gone. I wanted to be alone. To continue whatever this was that I was doing. "Don't bother."

"Are you sure? You don't look so good. And I know . . . "

"I said no," I cut him off briskly. I didn't want to be cruel to him but I couldn't do this now. I couldn't put on an indifferent look and brush it off like you could. I hurt and I wasn't going to cover it up in my own home.

Kain's big, dark brown eyes watered, "Oh, okay."

Dammit, now I feel like I'm the bad guy. Thanks a lot Riza. Taking the gruff edge off my voice, "I'm just tired, Kain."

Kain blinked the cheer back onto his face, "Oh! I should have known. I'll let Lieutenant Hawkeye know."

"Thanks."

Kain went back to the front door, "Get better!" He shut the door behind him as quietly and slowly as he could. Then he locked it again for me.

He really is considerate.

For the first time that week, I felt the weak tug of a smile at the corner of my lips. I looked back at Scruffy and Joey. The two tilted their heads to the right and let out a puppy whine at the same time. Now that weak smile made an appearance.

Alright.

I got up to shower and in general act like a normal human being. After all I brought this on myself. I knew there was a high probability that I would end up hurting. So, why should I act surprised when it did?

When I looked at my appearance in the bathroom mirror I wondered how Kain thought I was sick. My eyes were bloodshot. My face was puffy with dark circles under my eyes. I looked like someone who had spent the weekend in tears – not sick in bed.

The shower felt good. The hot water did wonders for my muggy brain. Once I was finished and dressed, I decided that there was only one thing left to do. Call Al.

I dialed the number and waited as I heard the phone ring four times before Granny Pinako picked up, "Rockbell Automail."

"Hey Granny, it's Ed."

"Ah, Ed. How are you doing? We haven't heard from you in quite some time."

"Uh, yeah, I didn't mean to. A lot of stuff was happening around here."

"Oh really," her cracking old voice held a note of disbelief. Crafty old hag.

"Is Al in?" Time to switch subjects.

"He is. I'll get him. But first, Ed, don't be a stranger okay?"

"I won't, thanks." Just hearing those familiar words eased the ache in my chest. She always seemed to know.

From the other side of the phone line, I could hear Granny call Al to the phone. Shortly thereafter, the sound of footsteps running down wooden stairs was easily heard before I got, "Brother!"

"Hey Al, how are you doing over there?" My usual cheer for him was weak but I tried my best.

"I'm doing a lot better. You should come back so we can spar."

"I'd like that, but I can't right now."

"What's wrong?" Trust Al to figure it out that quickly.

"Aw, nothing I can't handle." Yeah, I'm handling this _really_ well. Should I tell you about the past two days? I didn't break this badly when Mom died.

What does that say about me?

"Brother," Al issued the word like a warning.

"Come on, I told you I got it." Why did I call? I should have known Al would be worried.

"Does it have something to do with the interesting bit of news in the paper?"

That's why I called because I wouldn't have to admit out loud that I'm a fool. Because I wanted to run back to Al's side. Emotion thickening my voice, "Yeah."

"And it has something to with . . . him, right?"

"Yeah." Al was narrowing in on my problem with the practiced ease of a seasoned detective.

"I'm sorry," his tone edging towards pitiful.

"What for? Al, it's my problem . . . "

"No! If it involves you it involves me." He paused for a thoughtful moment, "Should I come to Central?"

"What? W-why should you come here?" I was surprised he even suggested it.

"I can help. And you can fill me in."

Help with what? It's all over. All I have to do keep a low profile until the new Fuhrer is picked. Then, maybe then, Al would be able to help. "Let me think about it, okay?"

"Alright, but . . . "

"I know, I know."

"So if you don't want to talk, why did you call?"

"I wanted to hear from you. I've been getting your letters."

From there my long conversation with Al continued. He caught me up with all the local news from around Resembool and how Winry and Granny were doing even though most of it was in his letters. Somehow hearing old news from Al made it seem brand new.

He told me about how he was continuing his studies and helped out around town. Al couldn't believe it when he said that he had to repair the river embankment when it gave again during the spring. We had always thought that anything Teacher made would last forever.

I wondered at that – all the silly little things you believed in a kid.

Slowly erode away . . .

Perhaps a sign?

I nearly scoffed at my own thought. How completely unreasonable – superstitious even.

Then Al yelled at me for letting my mind wander off in the middle of a conversation. I missed that whiny reprimand.

Back on track, I prodded Al until he admitted his developing relationship with Winry. It was good news. They both deserved to have happiness. It didn't stop me from teasing him though. And asking for a discount on my next repair/maintenance for my automail.

All throughout the conversation, I was finding my way back to normal. Al's upbeat tempo driving me all the way. Part of me knew that he did it for my sake. He knew I was hurt. He knew that I was reaching out to him. Even if I never said it out loud.

And he never pushed me. Al would wait patiently for the day when I broke down and confessed everything. He knew that day was coming.

As our conversation wrapped up, "Hey Al?"

"Yes."

"Thanks. I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused." No hesitation. No doubt. I owed this to Al – for a long time now.

"There's nothing to say sorry for."

Of course. I felt the tears that I had thought long dried out return – blurring my vision. My throat constricted forcing me swallow air just to speak. "Still, thanks."

"Anytime. And Granny's right, if you don't want me to come to Central, you should come home. Get away for a bit."

And written in between the lines – come home now. You don't have to tough it out alone.

"Maybe. I'll see what happens here first."

When I finally hung up, I realized that I had spent most of the day already. Time always seemed to fly when I talked with Al. I wiped away the tears budding in my eyes. For the first time that week, they weren't born from hurt.

When did I become such a crybaby?

Shaking my head to clear away this . . . I don't know depression? I looked over at the two fur balls currently trying to get my attention. I figured I might as well. Perhaps the fresh air will do me some good.

I got both of them on a leash and decided to take them to a nearby park. The afternoon sun was warm but pleasantly so. I headed over to an open field area so the dogs could play fetch for a bit. I let them off the leash and tossed two brightly colored balls. In a matter of seconds, one black blur and one yellow blur returned. I tossed each one a ball again to repeat the process.

Despite the warm sun and the dogs' liveliness, I felt an unwelcome feeling return. The feeling that I was being watched again. I kept my head forward to make it seem like I hadn't noticed a thing and continued to play with the dogs. An ugly reminder of why I remained here when I was only a train ride away from returning to . . . home – to Al, Winry and Granny.

After all, what information was the spy going to get from watching me? The worst interpretation was that I ditched worked with a fake illness excuse. Big deal. His best chance for information ended a mere few days ago.

By my own hand to save you.

And I'm supposed to be some kind of genius – I feel more like a fool.

After some time, I gathered up the dogs again to head home. I stopped by to pick up an early dinner and hoped to catch my stalker in the process. Might as well do something productive.

As luck would have it, I caught a quick glimpse of Sergeant Mills when I went to untie the dogs from the lamppost for the walk home. He tried to be covert but there was no way he could help it. The man was six foot three, built bulky, and yet seem permanently nervous. I had seen him around Central Command and I hated looking up to greet him. Fricken' giant.

However, I knew Mills was on Hakuro's staff not Ebner's. I had thought you said Riza spied someone from Ebner's staff outside your home.

The following day, I called Riza to confirm my memory. If I was right, and let's face it I knew I was, I should let you know that Hakuro's office may be involved as well.

The strangely routine action of dealing with Central's Operator made me feel almost surreal. It seemed like I wasn't really here. That I was dreaming and I would wake up happy by your side again. It wasn't too long ago that I dialed the same number with giddy anticipation. Now, it was for reporting in.

Hawkeye's sharp voice brought me back, "Brigadier General Mustang's office."

"Hawkeye, it's Ed."

"I'm surprised," her sharp voice dulling to her usual tone as Riza. "I practically had to put him before a firing squad before I wringed it out of him." The thought that Riza had put you through hell made me feel a bit better.

"I knew what I was getting into." I slouched into my overstuffed chair again. "Enough of that. I wanted to confirm what you saw that night."

Riza paused, "It was Edward's* man I saw."

Okay, first letters. "I thought so. Yesterday, I was out walking the dogs when I saw Henry's man."

"In the same capacity?" The steely edge of Hawkeye's voice returning.

"Yep."

"I see. I'll update him. Thanks Ed, I know it isn't easy."

I wanted to put Riza off with some blatant comment like 'Who me? I'm a tough'. But then she would know I was faking. "Something good better come from this."

"It will."

"Yeah."

We hung up and I spent another day wondering how to fill my hours. I didn't want to go anywhere near Central Command, but I was running out of things to do.

Sighing, I realized there was only one thing to do. Summoning up the courage from somewhere deep within, I left for the library. At least I can fake working there and maybe find copies of those journals the dogs shredded. I really had wanted to read those. And wasn't about to borrow your copies anytime soon.

I used a side door into the library. It was seldom used so I wouldn't have too many people to deal with – I'm so glad Scieszka showed me it. The door led to Personnel Records which was only a corridor away from my alchemy wing. Learning the labyrinth of Central Command had its perks – like disappearing or getting into places with no documentation.

Being a familiar face helped too. I waved at most of the administrative clerks. Every last one of them had seen me so often they don't bother to have me stop and check in.

Once I was back in my wing, surrounded by that comforting feeling of bound books, I went in search for the copies of the journals I wanted. The journals were near the opening of the alchemical wing. So I was going to have to risk being seen by my spy. And after all that work . . .

I should have remembered that.

Surrendering to the inevitable, I searched through the stacks and managed to locate two of the journals I was looking for. The others must be checked out or still in processing. I can confirm that with Scieszka later.

With the two journals in hand, I found a comfy spot against one of the large windows that stood near the middle of the wing's long wall to settle in for the next few hours.

But it wasn't meant to be.

I had finished reading and, in some cases invalidating, the first journal. Then, I had just gotten to the middle of the first article in the second journal when voices carried to my spot in the wing – hushed voices. Judging by the sound of them, they were probably standing near the open doorway to the wing.

Where was the desk secretary when you needed her?

The voices were somewhat muddled. After listening to them for a moment or two, I decided that they didn't matter and returned to my journal.

I was another three pages in when one name caught my attention 'Hawkeye'.

No one spread rumors about Hawkeye.

Well, people who weren't suicidal.

My attention was now fully engrossed in picking up the finer details of this conversation.

The first voice was male but not deep, making it more difficult to hear. " . . . would she really?"

A second more familiar voice responded, much deeper and clearer than the first, "Got it from the General himself."

"I can't . . . know the reputation that he has . . . wow, so Hawkeye has been tamed."

"For quite some time. Guess that's where that famous loyalty comes from." Laughter echoed for a brief moment, then the second voice continued, "Well cat's outta the bag now."

"Yeah, they're gonna . . . after all. Can't let the two of them . . . can they?"

"No way."

" . . . here. Lunch?"

"Can't, I'm babysitting."

More laughter echoed in the wing.

I moved closer to see the doorway from around a bookshelf. I couldn't see my muted speaker, but I did see a bit of the second – and I'd know that bulky form anywhere. It was my friendly local spy.

He must have caught me picking out the journals earlier – I knew it was risky. Or maybe he used a small portion of his brain to figure out that I practically lived here. Making the leap that Ed was in the library wasn't that hard.

My first instinct was to find Riza and see if she knew. But running back to your office . . . I could reach her by other means.

After all, the bits of conversation I heard was sketchy at best. And who told Mills? He said "the General" so which one? Most likely it was Hakuro.

And they say _girls_ like to gossip.

But first, I should confirm what in the hell is going on. Not like those two were going to be any more help. Especially since my softer speaker must be leaving if the meaty paw waving in the air is in indication.

I could feel my more devious instincts kicking in. I always had thought that the library was a stupid place to share secrets. I slipped out of the wing using the door that allowed librarians access to the alchemical wing. It led straight to the book depository.

Scieszka's second home.

Sure enough, I found her sitting amid piles of unstacked books carefully scrutinizing each book. Probably to see if she had read it or not. I knocked on a wall to get her attention. I had to tread lightly with Scieszka since she is famous for overreacting – and loudly at that.

Even with my careful preparation, "Uh, waaaa!" Then she promptly knocked over a stack of books with a crash. So much for secrecy.

Exasperation decorating my face, "Scieszka."

"I, oh no!" She tried to catch another pile before it toppled over. "I-I'm sorry. It was so quiet and I didn't . . . "

She trailed off on her own. With Scieszka, I never bothered to figure out if there was sentence there at all. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"It's okay." Then she pushed her forefingers together to make an upside-down "V" shape. "I was supposed to be sorting and I thought you were the head librarian."

"No problem. Have you been doing this all day?"

"No, I started this about," she looked to the clock on the wall behind her, "oh thank goodness, only 30 or so minutes ago. I was putting away the rest of my reshelf cart from yesterday earlier. You wouldn't believe how many returns we get on Mondays!"

Well, if the busy Sundays were indication enough. Okay so she might have heard a clearer version. "Well anyways, I overheard something rather odd and I was wondering if you could clear it up."

"Sure. I hope I can."

"I didn't hear much. Something about Hawkeye . . . " Scieszka winced hard at my words. "Scieszka?"

"Oh, that has been going around all morning long." She replied sadly. She lowered her lead to look off to the right. "The rumor is that Lieutenant Hawkeye had been 'with'," she made little quote marks with her fingers, "Brigadier General Mustang for some time. That's why his 'dating'," the little quotes returned, "has been down for over a year now."

Confusion marked me well, "What?"

"I know, I don't believe it either. But that doesn't change the fact that a new rumor grew along side it."

There's more! I felt bad for Riza. You can take it.

Scieszka took my shocked expression as a signal to continue. "That rumor is that Hawkeye is going to be transferred to a different office and both may be brought up on charges of fraternization." It got weirder. Who would have thought? "It doesn't look good."

"Have you seen Hawkeye?"

"N-no, I didn't want to be rude."

I checked the clock again, it was almost one in the afternoon. "Have you had lunch yet?"

"No?"

Leave it to Scieszka to be confused over lunch. I grabbed a scrap of paper that was usually left out near the card catalog. "Can you deliver this to Hawkeye on your lunch break?"

Scieszka looked at paper, squinted to try to read my handwriting, then folded it to place it in her jacket pocket. "Sure thing."

I smiled at Scieszka before I returned to the alchemical wing via the same side door. I checked to confirm that Mills was still standing there growing more and more bored by the minute. I hoped he cursed his spy detail. Then I settled in to wait out the delivery of my note.

I've never been very good at waiting.

You'd think I would have realized before I sent Scieszka.

I sat in the library wandering isles, flipping through books, as I waited out the time before I could speak with Riza. I couldn't even read the journals I had. My mind wandered away every three words or so.

If everything went according to my note there shouldn't be a hint of suspicion for my spy to report back on. Quite frankly, having a tail sucks. Every move I made had to be carefully thought out. It really wasn't my style.

As it turned out, it wasn't Riza's style either – for the time being.

It wasn't long after 1:30 in the afternoon, when I heard the desk secretary for the wing stutter a nervous, "Y-you can't come in h-here, Lieutenant."

So now she's finally returned. Just where was she?

Hawkeye's cool, steely demeanor came through, "Normally no. But I have been requested to pick up Fullmetal. He is in here, right?" I arrived just in time to watch Hawkeye level a knowing gaze at Mills. Who promptly stiffened and walked away. Hawkeye turned to lock eyes with the unfortunate desk secretary, "May I?"

The poor girl just about stopped breathing, "S-sure."

Well that's what you get for abandoning your post earlier.

Hawkeye's purposeful stride was evident as she headed directly to the back of the wing. About halfway there, I had caught up with her and got her attention with a wave. We locked eyes for a moment before she turned to complete the walk to the back of the wing.

A small smile gracing her face.

When we finally met up with no further movement, Riza handed me the note back – I had thought it was my note until I opened it.

Taking care of it.

In Hawkeye's neat writing.

I looked up at her, "I was worried once I found out."

"Thank you, but we're doing everything to squash this little interference." Her grin gave a hint of malice, "It won't take much longer."

"Henry?"

She nodded, "Most likely the supplier, but it was Edward's men that barged in today."

My eyes widened, "This morning?"

"Not long after you called. Given the timing, I was a little concerned about eavesdropping. But I think we covered it."

Well at least I did that right. I felt a nervous twinge of pain, "Are you . . . "

Riza cut me to the quick, "Perfectly fine. Believe it or not this has happened before. Although last time, it didn't get quite so far." She seemed to contemplate this, "Perhaps I've lost my edge."

I couldn't help it. She was so serious about it. The laughter I managed to stifle shook my shoulders.

Her expression stiffened, "What's so funny?"

Choking back the last dying laugh, "Nothing." I cleared my throat, "I think you're still plenty scary."

"Better be." Riza's softened gaze gave me a little clue.

She had done it all for you – just like I had. It didn't matter to either of us of others didn't like us. Riza chose the life of an unapproachable, strict military woman. Your perfect right hand.

She caught me piecing it together, "Yes, for him." Then she added, "You know, Ed, you're getting a whole lot better at reading people."

I gave a weak smile, "I'm not too sure about that. Maybe because I know you so well."

"Believe me, you did quite well about four days ago." Stunned, I froze in place. She gave me a strange look that I couldn't place. "Now then, Fullmetal, if you would," she gestured for us to walk back to other end of the wing.

I numbly followed her out of the alchemical wing, out of the library, and all the way to vehicle parking lot. The entire time was trying to figure out what in the world she meant by 'doing well four days ago'? Four days ago . . . four days ago I had . . . it hurt to put into words.

"Here." Riza held out another note.

My mind still fogged over, I took it from her.

At the office 1645

Now, what was going on?

* Utilizing my police academy skills in a military context. I feel so official. For those who haven't guessed it already, I used the phonetic alphabet that police officers use for spelling things such as last names or license plates.

E = Edward, H = Henry

Witchy would be Walter, Irene, Tom, Charles, Henry, Yellow

Yay for spelling!

A/N: Thank you for all your reviews! I love to read (and often rereading) them. They are my little ray of hope when I've lost myself in this mess of a story I created! I mean seriously did I have to make this SO complicated?


	13. Chapter 13

Moving Forward

After receiving my cryptic note from Riza, I suddenly had a lot of time to kill. She didn't even give me a hint about what in the hell was going on. Not one answer and certainly not a clue. Riza had just handed over the note, gave me a smile between warm and melancholy, and drove off without another word.

All I got from our encounter was that I had a _lot_ of time to kill.

Time I knew I had to kill discreetly. My tail may have abandoned me for the moment but he was sure to return. Riza was scary, but a pissed off Hakuro wasn't all that great either. I decided that doubling back into the library was my best bet. If I went home or anywhere else for that matter, I was declaring to the tail that Riza's story was a cover. And if ol' Mills knew that . . .

Well, I wasn't sure what but I was playing this carefully.

All for you – _you_!

I'm giving you everything and all I get . . . all I get it is this. Frustration, irritation, and a headache from all this cryptic crap.

Okay, so I suppose a few good memories too, but that is certainly it.

I turned back towards the side entrance to library through administration – just as I had done before. All the while, as I made my return trip, I couldn't help but wish I could deal with this my way. Hell, I wish I could go about this in anyway but this way. It is so slow! If I did this my way everything would be done by now. No more confusing notes, no more weird summons, no more anything, but a nice resolution.

Of course there may not be a Central Command anymore either since I would level it. Not because it was necessary but because it would be damn fun at this point.

I slipped back into the book depository to locate Scieszka again. I didn't want to be in the open anymore just in case Mills was looking.

I found Scieszka right back where I last saw her. The piles of unshelved books growing ever higher around her. Once again, I knocked on a wall to get her attention hoping to prevent a repeat of what happened just a little while ago.

But reality wasn't on my side.

Once again Scieszka spun around knocking over a precarious stack of books while wailing and flailing about. The books collapsed beside her with a loud crash.

I sighed and ran my left hand over my face in tired exasperation, "Scieszka."

"I, oh Ed, oh umm, ha?" She tried to put something of a response together, but I doubt even Scieszka knew what it was supposed to be. She began to pick up the toppled books, "I'm sorr-ry. Again."

I helped Scieszka pile the fallen books and tried to calm her rather jittery state of being. With that out of the way, I explained my situation and asked Scieszka to pick up the journals I left behind in the alchemical wing. I also had her locate the journals I couldn't find earlier.

She wasn't too happy with the fact that I was going to hide in the book depository all afternoon, but frankly I didn't care. Even if the head librarian found out, I had a little pocket watch that made all her complaints vanish.

It was good for something after all.

I closed the final journal around a half past four and marveled at my timing. Not only did I get to catch up on the latest developments in alchemy but I successfully utilized the right amount of time.

So there Scruffy! My journals may have been eaten, but the information was not lost.

But as Scruffy's revenge would have it, I was going to have to find a newspaper stand with a copy of one of the journals. It contained some interesting information I wanted the ability to reference in a moment's notice. I'll probably have to go to the train station periodical store – the local stands don't usually have something so obscure.

I placed the journals back on Scieszka's reshelf cart and left a note that said 'Thanks'.

I left through another side door that led into Biographies and finally made my way towards your office. All the while, I never caught a glimpse of Mills.

Either I had lost him for the day or Hakuro reassigned someone better at tailing.

I opened the door to your outer office expecting to see the usual ongoings with Havoc, Breda, Falman, and Fuery. Instead all I saw was Fuery filing a few papers and Hawkeye sitting behind her desk.

Hawkeye's stoic expression fell when she looked up to see me enter.

"Good evening, Major."

I scrunched my nose at the title, "Uh, yeah, good evening. Where is everybody?"

Hawkeye looked coolly over at Fuery before she began, "Warrant Officer Falman is off today, Second Lieutenants Havoc and Breda have already left for today, and Master Sergeant Fuery is completing some filing on behalf of the absent Warrant Officer. The General will see you now."

"Great," the word dripped sarcasm.

Hawkeye raised an eyebrow in what appeared to be confusion. Come on Riza, you know I wouldn't want to see him.

Not so soon anyway.

"I'm glad you're feeling better." I turned my head to look at Kain wearing a dopey smile on his face. "You didn't look so good the other day."

Oh, sweet naïve Kain. A child could con him out of his life savings. I reach up to scratch the back of my neck nervously, "Yeah, I started feeling better that afternoon. I didn't mean to be so . . . "

Kain stopped me by waving his hands, "N-no, I just showed up unannounced. Anyone would be a little cranky." The somewhat cheerful expression I was forcing onto my face fell before I could stop it. I stared at him for a moment, as I watched him instantaneously regret his last statement. "Umm, not th-that you were or anything."

Keep digging that hole Kain – it's only getting deeper.

"Uh, yeah, well . . ." I looked away trying to find a way respond to "cranky" just in time to see that you were standing in your office doorway.

I wondered how much of that you heard? I suppose in the long run being called cranky was a lucky break. If Kain had said anything else, you might know how much I was hurt.

And that is something I wanted to avoid at all costs.

"Evening Fullmetal, if you and the Master Sergeant are finished," you gestured for me to follow you.

"Later Kain, General _Bastard_ is calling." With a mark of pride, I noticed a hitch in your step as you were walking back to your desk. Hope that hurt.

Kain smiled brightly and I closed the door behind me. I wanted to slam it shut, but I reminded myself we didn't know who was listening or watching.

I sat down on your couch crossing my arms and legs. I didn't even want to look at you, but then I would be exemplifying that petulant child I was constantly trying to fend off. Strangely, for the first time, when I met that level gaze of yours I didn't feel an ounce of nervous energy bubbling up in me. No urges to fidget – nothing.

An odd stillness overcame me.

I was just numb.

Curious.

You leaned against one loosely fisted left hand that was propped up on your desktop. It appeared that you were studying my composure.

I let out a small sigh, "So what?"

You're eyes widen in surprise, "Are you okay?"

"Just great. What do ya want?"

It was your turn to let out a sigh. You looked up and almost asked a question I could see forming. Then it died, "I heard you are aware of this morning's unpleasant news."

"Yep."

"Then, are you also aware that this may be the first problem of many?"

"How so?" What do you mean by that?

"The Lieutenant and I were able to squash the rumor this afternoon, but that doesn't mean more won't come."

I raised an eyebrow in doubt, "The Lieutenant and you?" I put a strong doubting emphasis on 'you'.

That small smile I adored so much appeared, "Perhaps just the Lieutenant. But . . ."

"But what? You know there isn't anything further to worry about."

That smile dropped into a frown and you looked back at me, "They don't necessarily need fact."

I couldn't do it anymore.

My head dropped forward and I tried desperately to choke back everything from this weekend. My throat felt thick as I swallowed every feeling that tried to creep up to the surface. My face heated as the pressure from dammed tears welled behind them. They don't necessarily need fact! Then what the hell was all . . . all this for!

They don't necessarily need fact!

Then why? Why did I . . . did I have to say it? Why did it have to end if there wasn't any purpose?

My crossed arms quickly became a convenient excuse to hold myself together.

Get it back together, Ed.

Quickly now! This is the last person you want to fall apart in front of.

There was no way to fix the red rush of blood to my face – no way to fix the red I knew was rimming my eyes. There was only one option. Keep my voice together long enough to survive this conversation.

Keeping my head down and taking in another shaky breath in hopes of maintain a steady tone, "Oh?"

"E-er, I don't like this much either."

Oh really? Because I'm having such a grand fucking time. My sarcasm got the best of me, "No kidding."

"I just need you to be aware."

"Got it. Is there anywhere you would prefer to lock me away? Perhaps the library . . ."

My head jerked up after my sentence was cut short by the loud slamming of your fist against the desktop. The room dropped to dead silence as I looked at you. There behind your desk was a sight I had never seen. Your eyes narrowed, your lips pulled into a fierce scowl, your entire body quaked – the fist that had hit the desk still shaking in its place.

Shock held me silent. As if I couldn't take in what I was seeing. Why? Why were you so angry – so close to rage?

Isn't this is what you wanted?

I watched as you reigned in the emotions from a moment ago. Pulling yourself together by squaring your shoulder with a deep sigh. Only minutes passed, but it seemed so long as I sat on your couch watching something I couldn't believe.

A small note of hope filled my mind.

Because I had never seen you so angry like this over anything less than Hughes.

The deep, soft sound of your voice broke the silence, "Please don't . . . don't say that." The last phrase hung in the air like a plea.

I wanted to say okay. I wanted to act like everything was fine. But how can I?

After all, aren't I tired of playing it safe?

"I can't. And you know why."

My delivered blow left you immobile. The evidence of surprise was clearly written on your face. "I see." Those brief words gave way to the appearance of something unintelligible in your eyes. Your glance beaten into something I couldn't place on you – something that didn't suit you.

Your eyes shut and I sensed the shift in your being. When you looked back at me, all I could see was the General – cold and calculating. You continued by pulling out a stack of papers, "Take this and work with the Testing staff to make the final preparations."

I retrieve the papers and glance at the top page. It was the revised State Alchemy Certification Exam. My second draft had been approved.

"Also, your suggested revoked certifications have been approved. You will need to fill out the paperwork at the bottom of that stack."

I nodded and flipped to see the official documents at the back of the bundled stack.

"Lastly, I need you to get this done quickly. The testing cycle is approaching. You do not need to report in until it is complete."

That last sentence stunned me. It was a roundabout way of telling me not to come by the office at all. So this is how you'll secret me away.

I nodded and gave a monotone reply of, "No problem." Without another word between us, I turned and left.

That small hopeful part of my mind was killed ruthlessly.

I had to.

That lying shit.

The next day I returned to headquarters around eleven in the afternoon. I wanted to complete this stupid testing nonsense quickly.

After all, the quicker I got through with it the sooner I could seclude myself in my home.

Withdrawal seemed so pleasant.

I decided to cut through Personnel Records for two reasons. I liked the staff there and I wanted a contact in Testing. The girls of Personnel were great for that.

I waited until Teresa, a petite girl with long, black hair tied back in a ponytail, was available. Teresa was among the youngest employees in the division but learned quick enough. Her only downfall was that she was a terrible gossip hound. A detriment that came with her extremely out-going personality.

I waved to catch her attention.

She smiled brightly, "Major Elric, how can I help you?"

I felt a small tick in my left eye at the title. She always addressed everyone by rank. I supposed that was the proper way – civilian staff or not. "Hey, Teresa, I need someone I can work with in Testing."

She took a thoughtful moment to scan the names in her head while holding a single finger to her chin. "Oh! How about Master Sergeant Baker? She'll have you call her 'K' in no time."

Perfect another informal personality. "That's perfect Teresa, thanks."

She gave a conspiratorial look over her shoulder before she leaned over the Personnel booth desk, "So what's going on?"

"In Testing?"

"No," she spat out the word like I was stupid for suggesting that, "everyone knows that you're revising the test. I meant that rumor about Lieutenant Hawkeye."

Stunned, I decided to opt for silence.

"Humpf. Yesterday everyone was buzzing about it and now no one will talk about it. It's practically become taboo."

I gave a shrug, "I dunno. I did hear a crazy rumor yesterday, but I figured that someone had a death wish by bullet. After all everyone knows she's too smart for that crap."

But I'm not.

Teresa pulled back a bit and placed that index finger back on her chin. "Hmm, true. I thought it was a funny rumor but I wanted to know if it was true or not. All things aside they would make a cute couple." She frowned, "But I guess they aren't."

Let it die, Teresa.

From behind her, I saw the head of Personnel approach. Maria Ruiz was likable enough, but she was strict about idle gossip. In her mind, work was work and never should your personal life interrupt it.

In reality, it wasn't that bad of a code to have.

Maria placed her hand delicately on Teresa's shoulder and I watched Teresa's eyes widen in horror. Teresa spun around quickly, "Ma'am?"

"Teresa, have you finished helping Major Elric?"

She glanced back at me quickly, "Y-yes, ma'am."

"Then you best help the other officers here."

"Yes, ma'am, right away."

Teresa quickly walked away to help some large man at the other side of the welcoming desk. Maria then turned to face me. I had been waiting for that, "Thank you for crushing _that_."

I smiled back. Maria had been a fan of Riza's for a long time now as well as an informant. In fact, now that I think about it, Maria may have been the person who first clued Riza into the rumor. I turned to walk away giving a parting wave, "Any time."

"Major Elric?"

I turned back around, "Yeah?" She never used my title unless . . .

"I have a message for you."

I took the folded paper from her, "Thanks."

I walked slowly to Testing so I could read the message Maria had given me.

Inquiries into Personnel Records for:

(former) Brigadier General Maes Hughes

General Randall Grumman

General Roy Mustang

Major Edward Elric

Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye

Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc

Second Lieutenant Heymans Breda

Warrant Officer Vato Falman

Master Sergeant Kain Fuery

Inquires were broken up and sent individually and separately by three offices; General Hakuro, General Raven, and General Ebner.

The paper was clearly written by Maria. It was also written on an ordinary piece of paper – not an official letterhead from Personnel. Something that was routinely Maria's preference.

This means that you were right.

Maybe my painful weekend wasn't pointless.

They are digging to discredit you and the "loyalty" you garner beginning with your inner circle. That ridiculous rumor must have been a ploy to buy time.

I understood digging into General Grumman. He was a high ranking supporter of yours. But why dig into the dead? Why would they go after Hughes?

I folded the paper into a square and stuffed it into my pocket. Trying my best to appear that I had received some mundane message.

I located Master Sergeant Kate Baker in Testing and quickly discovered that Teresa's recommendation was flawless. She did tell me to call her "K". I told her to call me Ed.

We got along splendidly.

She thumbed through the somewhat neat second draft of the test I had created. Turning her head from side to side in an odd quirk, before she announced that she would have a test proof ready for me either by the end of today or early tomorrow. It depended on which typist she could get.

I let her know that it wasn't a rush and that tomorrow would be fine.

I was just happy that all I had to do was approve of the test proof.

With that taken care of, I knew that I would have to return to your office. Hopefully, for a brief stay to hand off the letter from Maria to Riza. You may have hurt me, but I wanted to ensure that they hurt more. Worse than anything.

And the only way to do that was to get you the position as Fuhrer.

The corridors to your office was rather crowded since the lunch shift at one was happening. I was grateful for the noise – it kept me from thinking too much.

I entered into the office quickly hoping to do as planned. As it was, my plan failed miserably upon opening that door.

Inside was complete chaos, Havoc and Breda were engaging in some post lunch conversation that left me confused. Something about a sporting event. Falman was picking up more processing papers from his desk – a fact that proved he had been at lunch as well. Only Kain appeared to be packing up for a lunch break.

All in all it wasn't really a problem. It was to my benefit that everyone was so busy. There had been a high chance my presence would be ignored.

Had been a chance.

As it was, Riza was having a rather hushed, yet vocal conversation with you at her desk. She was holding a stack of papers against her chest as she glared back at you – almost threatening you with her gaze.

Well, there goes that plan. After our last meeting, I doubted that you would just let me drop off my note and leave.

Havoc was the first to announce my presence, "Hiya, Chief!"

Idiot.

You gave a quick glance in my direction before returning to your discussion with Hawkeye.

That was it?

Why was I hoping . . . expecting more?

Dammit, why can't hope just die? It keeps coming back like a cheesy villain in a monster movie. Just when you think it's dead for good – it's _ba-ack_.

Maybe it's more like a homunculus. I'll have to beat it bloody.

I gave a wave in Havoc's direction before walking over to Riza. She was currently trying to get you to return to your office as you were trying to move towards the corridor door.

Might as well get this over with. I decided to grab Riza's attention as she was beginning to give up on you for the moment, "Um, Hawkeye?"

"Yes," the word came with a sense of rising ire that quickly died, "Oh, Ed, I didn't see you come in."

I glared at Havoc daring him to make to joke. "Yeah, I'm passing on a message I received from Personnel." No big deal, right? Right.

I watched as you began to move past me to the door. I guess I'm no longer important. Just something to throw in the path of Riza's gun sights. As I was getting pissed off about being your shield against Riza, I felt something I hadn't in a long time. It was just the barest of brushes – quick and easily dismissed. Yet, there it was. Your hand had past lightly over my left shoulder just grazing my neck.

I was suddenly tossed backwards in time.

I stood frozen – rooted to my spot.

Riza took the paper from my hand and I reminded myself to drop my left arm in response. She quickly scanned the information, then looked up just in time to see you closing the door behind you. She let out a sigh in frustration, "Thank you. I'll handle this."

Given the steely edge on her voice, I decided to leave it alone and tried to snap out of the stupor you left me in. I could feel the desire for analysis creeping into the workings of my mind. Why? Why? Why?

Giving myself a mental shake, I decided it would be best if I left – stick with my original plan.

Quickly now.

"Ed, have you had lunch yet?"

That touch was sinking deeper into my thoughts, but Kain had other plans for me. I had to turn him down so I could figure this out. I went to turn him down as nicely as I could but was met with my worst enemy – big, pleading, brown puppy-dog eyes.

Next time I call Al, I'm finding out if he trained Kain. "No."

"Want to come with me?"

No, I want to figure out why in hell you were screwing with my resolve. Why you insisted on breathing life into that pesky bastard hope. "Why not?"

I walked with Kain down to the cafeteria trying to shut down the nagging thoughts in my head. The entire time he talked about Joey's new home and the new strays he had located.

On the plus side, Kain animated discussion on dogs left me with no choice but to shelve my analysis of you and your behavior. Because ignoring Kain equated to another round of sad, watery eyes.

That I have no willpower to say no against.

Once we had our food and seats in the cafeteria, Kain surprised me. "Are you okay?"

Over the buzz of the second lunchtime crowd, I wasn't sure I heard him right. "What?"

"Are you okay? You didn't seem so good the other day and not in the sick way"

"Um, yeah, I'm fine." When did Kain get insightful?

He put down the fry he was about to eat, "Really?"

The pleading eyes were coming, I just knew it. I let out a small sigh, "Yeah, I'm okay. I wasn't myself that day, but I really did feel better that afternoon."

Kain seemed doubtful.

"What brings this up?"

"Well, yesterday you came in late to talk with the General. I was supposed to finish my shift and go home with Second Lieutenant Havoc like I always do . . ." He trailed off for a moment. "But I was filing for Warrant Officer Falman since no one did all day. Lieutenant Hawkeye asked me to since she was too busy to get to it."

Get to the point Kain.

"So I heard the General get mad at you. It sounded like he hit something. It sure made me jump and I wasn't even talking to him!" Kain quieted himself and then looked at me as if I had scolded him. "Lieutenant Hawkeye seemed angry that I was taking so long with the filing. But it is hard to see the top cabinet filing labels. Warrant Office Falman is so much taller . . ."

I cut Kain off before his tangent got too long winded, "Kain, that . . . that . . . " I was at a loss for words. I can't say it is personal. I can't say it isn't his business. He's my friend, but I can't tell him. I don't want to lie.

There is no other option though, is there?

"That was nothing. You know how bad my reports are. He was just irritated after a long day. A lot of crap happened that day."

Kain thought this over. I hoped he bought my excuse about the rumor problem. "That did happen on the same day, huh?" A small sound of humor rose in his voice.

"Yeah, he was just all worked up."

The customary happy-go-lucky smile grew on Kain's face. I guess he was worried about me. I felt like such a jerk. He trusts me and I . . .

It was for his own good. Why drag another person into this mess?

The note that I just handed off popped into my mind. Well, another person who knows what is happening. I can at least give Kain plausible deniability.

Happy for the moment, Kain switched back to talking about the dogs. He wanted to know how Scruffy was doing.

As the end of the lunch hour approached, Kain announced that the strays were apparently in your office at the moment. I could take them home after lunch.

I just about choked on the last of my sandwich. "Wait, you mean that the strays are in the office right now." I placed an alarmed tone to "now".

Kain blinked back at me in confusion, "Hmm? Yeah, what's the problem? The General lets me keep them there if it is only for a little bit." He paused for a moment before adding, "He likes dogs."

I was completely amazed at Kain's lack of awareness. I encouraged him to follow along, "You left dogs in the office?" Kain nodded in affirmation. "With Breda?"

Kain thought this over and realization dawned on his face, "Oh."

We both agreed that returning a little early from lunch might be a really good idea.

Note: In case there are any questions, I made up General Grumman's first name. It appears that he was never given one since it isn't in any production credits, manga or profile books that I can find. It isn't on the Internet either. Also, I discovered that Grumman's rank differs between General and Lieutenant General. I don't know which one was right so I made him match Roy – plus just "General" sounds better. That and I really think it is canon for him to be General anyway.

Oh, and in case you're thinking who the heck is General Grumman, he was Roy's commander when he was working in the East. You know that guy Roy played chess with.

A/N: I don't know why but suddenly it has become easier to write Ed and Kain together. I fear that I may have to revive a side story I have half finished.

Also, for those that don't have email alert available – I'm talking to you guys at – I have created an email account just for this purpose. If anyone cares. I really should have done this about three years ago. Anywoo, it is . All flamey crap will be burned with shear glee and possibly by Roy if I can tear him away from Ed.

Thank you for reading and please review.


	14. Chapter 14

Overdue Conversation

After we returned to the office, my prediction came true.

Kain had apparently left the dogs sleeping under his desk. Which were awakened when Breda decided to use Kain's desk as a temporary sorting station for the endless paperwork that streams into your office.

What actually transpired from that point on was relayed to both Kain and I in a rapid-fire jumble of words. Each witness to the event talking over the other. Between the shouting, screaming and barking, I managed to piece together only a little bit.

The dogs ran around the desk to see who had woke them up. Happy to see anybody, they began to bark and jump up at the frightened Breda. This, in turn, caused Breda to back into Riza's desk knocking off the pile of papers she had stacked and ready for your signature. At some point Havoc and Falman decided to get involved. Based on their current locations, it appeared that Falman went to help Riza gather up the papers while Havoc tried to gather up the dogs.

That's when we arrived. In time to see Riza and Falman attempting to straighten up the crumpled and dirty papers, Breda standing on his desk while clinging to a nearby filing cabinet, and Havoc sitting outside the closed door to the General's office smoking a cigarette while barking was heard from inside the office.

With the whole story somewhat explained, I looked around the office and made a turn to leave.

Hawkeye's voice promised a threat and halted me in my tracks, "Don't you dare."

I turned to face her while giving a passing glance to the paling Kain at my side.

Hawkeye continued, her voice nearing deadly with each word, "You," she pointed to Kain, "get ready to retype everything that is damaged. And you," she pointed at me, "get those dogs out of here _now_." She turned her attention back to the papers she was sorting – most likely into piles of 'can be signed' and 'to be retyped by Fuery'.

I gave a sympathetic look towards Kain before I walked over to Havoc. I pointed to the door to the General's office and Havoc shut his eyes and gave an assenting nod. I opened the door just a tiny bit to see how many dogs and what their location was when I heard a shriek coming from the frightened Breda.

I looked over my shoulder to see him attempting to crawl on top of the filing cabinet.

Havoc sighed, scratched his chin and stood up. "Alright, Breda let's go get some paper from Supply. The Master Sergeant's gonna need it." He finished his sentence with a grin.

Breda seemed to think this over before coming down from his post and dashing out of the office. Havoc strolled by me, "It's all your's, Chief."

I frowned, "Thanks."

Once Havoc closed the door to the corridor behind him, I began to think up a plan for carrying two dogs out of Central Command. I asked Kain for his box of leftover/broken parts and transmuted a dog cage. It might be cramped for a bit, but they'll survive the short stay. Then I took your coat, you won't need anytime soon anyway, as a cover for the cage.

The minute I opened the door to your office, the two mutts ran straight for me. One was a terrier-like dog that was a dark shade of brown, while the other was an odd looking dog with a tiny head and fluffy ears. That one was mostly white with only those fluffy ears being a light shade of brown. Both were eager to play and highly against any plan that involved entering my newly fashioned cage.

I pulled Kain away from setting up the typewriter to help me get them into the cage. After several attempts and doggy escapes later, they were locked up and I was on my way home. Completely exhausted.

To make matters worse, I received yet another note from a much calmer and less lethal Riza. I was far too busy trying to walk straight while carrying a cage loaded with squirming animals to read it. It would have to wait.

I, also, ran into Breda and Havoc returning from Supply on my way out. Thankfully, I had decided to cover the cage with your coat. But that still didn't stop Breda from flattened himself against the wall as I walked/wobbled past him.

Once I got home I took the cage into the backyard, closed the doggy door so a curious Scruffy and Joey wouldn't investigate, and went about the task of cleaning up the newest editions. I had to make sure they weren't flea ridden.

That would be bad.

It was close to sunset when I finally got everything completed. Between capturing, moving, cleaning, and introducing the dogs, I had blown the entire afternoon.

I finally settled down in my overstuffed chair listening to the sounds of a doggy play. I decided to read my note. Written in Riza's neat script:

Xing Palace 1730 make it look like an accidental meeting

I looked at the clock on wall. I had about 30 minutes to clean the smell of wet dog and flea remover off of me before I could even think about getting to the restaurant. I sighed and forced myself out of the chair. The longer I sat there the less time I had.

I arrived late. There was no way around it. I had showered quickly, braided my hair back, thrown together a comfortable outfit and tried leave on time. However, the newest yet-to-be-named mongrels didn't like the idea of me leaving so soon. Even if they had two friends to play with.

A few rounds of distraction by dog toy was required before I could run out the door.

Oh well, wasn't this supposed to be a chance meeting?

Riza had a table in the corner overlooking the Xing Palace's meticulous landscaping on the outdoor patio. I walked in and made it look like I was going to place an order to go before I noticed Riza – again.

We waved at each other and I informed the hostess that I would be sitting with her.

After the waitress left with our order, I began, "Convincing?"

Riza smiled with tired eyes, "Very."

"So, what's going on now?"

"Nothing new. I thought it was time for us to catch up."

I nodded as the waitress set down a kettle of green tea and two cups.

Riza poured the tea for both of us, "A lot has happened."

Strange how hot tea is good on a summer night. I sipped it carefully, "True. How did you resolve that little problem from the other day?"

Riza set her cup down and gave a furtive smile. "Oh, just a few well placed facts here and there."

I couldn't stop the grin from appearing on my face. "Facts, hmm. Those facts didn't come with a subtle threat?"

Riza feigned innocence as well as I could, "Threats, oh no. I would never."

We laughed at the joke and for a moment everything felt okay. There were no big conspiracies, no secret meetings – nothing but the two of us sharing dinner on a mild summer night.

Riza's carefree smile fell, signaling the beginning of a more serious conversation. "How about we back up to Friday?"

I looked away towards the patio. "I don't really want to."

"I know."

We locked eyes for a moment. I really didn't want to discuss this. I did what I had to do. That was all there was to it. But to put in words – it makes it seem so real. So final. Giving in to her prying stare, "The short story is that with things being the way they are, we can't . . . we can't be." Riza gave a solemn nod. "I saw where everything was heading and ended it before . . . it hurt even more."

Riza started to say something, but decided against it. Instead, she reached across the table to give my left hand a small squeeze before retreated back to her side of the table. Her timing was fantastic since the food arrived. For a while we ate and sat in silence. The conversation may have left a sour feeling in my stomach, but the aroma of food changed that quickly.

All that work this afternoon had left me really hungry.

Riza was the first to break our self-imposed silence. "Things are going to get worse."

"I know."

"We can't afford to give them too many opportunities."

I nodded then paused, "But I was . . . warned that the truth isn't necessary."

"Truth isn't exactly needed, but a small amount helps. Otherwise, it falls apart too quickly – like the other day."

That made sense. Everyone knew that you had a reputation of being a "playboy" even if I knew that wasn't true. Everyone also knew that you and Riza had a special relationship. But putting the two together had all the success of oil and water. It appeared to merge for a moment, but separated swiftly.

What they needed was more like sodium and water – highly explosive.

"About that, do you know why they would go after the dead?"

Riza shut her eyes in a painful wince. "I do. But . . . it is something I've kept for him for a long time. I don't know if I have the right to say."

I looked down at the table top. A war of emotion battled within me – pulling me between the painful tightening in my chest and the ache to give you a solid punch with my right hand.

Riza held your secrets.

Not me.

I guess I was naive all along.

You gave me just enough information to let me think that I meant something, but not so much that I actually did. Maybe what I thought was a sacrifice was really a convenient ending for you. All nice and neat with no one to blame but the people spying on us.

It's not you; it's those darn military spies. Shucks.

The urge to hit you gave way to the pain restricting my chest. Did I really . . .

The table beneath me blurred and the tears from last weekend returned uninvited.

"Ed, please don't get the wrong idea."

I wanted to shout back at her.

I wanted to rant and rave.

But it wasn't her fault. "What else am I suppose to think?"

"That there are some things that are too painful or too embarrassing to say."

I blinked back the tears with a new sense of anger picking its way through my mind – loosening my hold on everything I kept from Riza. I picked my head up to look directly at her, "Too . . . what does that mean? There wasn't . . . wasn't anything I held back." My voice dropping so low I almost whispered.

Riza's tired eyes switched from sympathetic to wide-eyed shock in moments. "W-what?"

I could feel a sense of self-depreciation stealing the anger away from me. A void that numbed all else but that annoying sense of truth. "You heard me – nothing. Not one fuckin' thing." Riza sat back mute. "I'm such a fool."

There I said it.

I'm the world's biggest fool!

Because I picked you.

When I should have never come back.

Shaking herself back into speech, "I-I didn't know. He never said a word. Not even . . . " Her sentence trailed off with no hope of completion. She looked around the restaurant and signaled the waitress over for the check. "We're continuing this elsewhere."

Riza paid the bill and I numbly followed her to bar called Solstice.

The entire way there I was ignorant of my surroundings. Too tired from the drastic shifts in my emotional state to care if we were followed or not.

Too numb to get a damn about anything.

Immediately upon entering Solstice, a large woman wearing a revealing, red cocktail dress behind the curved counter gestured to the door behind her. Her bored expression softened when she saw Riza and she put out the cigarette she had been smoking.

Riza walked around the back of the bar counter and opened the door. It led to the liquor storage room.

Not exactly what I was expecting. Was she planning on plying me with liquor? Or perhaps was it more medicinal?

Either way it wasn't really Riza's style.

The woman had followed us into the storage room.

Riza sat on a crate and indicated that I should to the same. "Ed, this is Madame Christmas." She then looked to Madame Christmas, "This is Ed otherwise known as Erica."

Granted, I may have been a bit numb from my confession earlier, but what the hell? I shot an irritated look at Riza.

Riza wasn't fazed in the least, "I didn't pick it. He did."

I wondered if there was anyplace remote enough to go and pretend that my entire life never existed. I began to run through a mental list of all the towns I had visited and was considering relocating to either Youswell or Briggs, when I felt long nails grazing against my throat.

Startled, I moved to pull back, but surprisingly strong fingers held my chin in place. I looked up to see Madame Christmas visually inspecting me.

I tried to pull away again.

An amused husky voice laughed before releasing me. "He always did like blondes. Feisty ones too."

Riza was in on the joke and let out a small laugh.

I wasn't and it was beginning to irk.

Riza caught me preparing to return with a less than courteous reply and interjected, "Ed, it's okay. Madame Christmas is a long time friend and information broker for us. She also happens to be Roy's foster mother of sorts."

Madame Christmas gave a small nod.

I looked at the women with a new understanding. She was no longer an unfortunately dressed woman, but a wealth of information. I felt a hundred questions bubble in my mind. There was so much to ask! I always wanted to know about your family. I promptly recalled that day in your kitchen. You seemed so sad about your mother. What happened to her? Why was Madame Christmas a 'foster mother of sorts'? You did say you would like to see your mother again. But that wasn't really an indication of anything.

Suddenly I was awake – alert with interest.

But it wouldn't last.

I reminded myself that it was best to leave it alone. My jolt of inquisitiveness forcefully silenced with an ugly memory. Taking in any more interest in you wasn't going to be a good thing for me.

Look what it already brought me.

Brushing away the curiosity I held for you, a new revelation arrived to replaced it. I realized that Madame Christmas has the same annoying mannerisms that you had.

Like pissing me off with only a few words.

Or touching my chin.

'Foster mother of sorts.' I'd bet everything that this woman raised you.

Bitch.

"He's fun to watch." That smoky voice brought me out of my musing. Riza was trying to suppress her laugher. "You know," she directed her attention to me, "you're easy to read." I scowled back at her. "You need to watch that." She paused, "or fix it."

Well, thank you so much. I didn't realize that fixing my emotions was so easy! Just poof! Decide and it's done. Wow, just like magic.

Sensing my impending melt down, Riza acted as referee once more, "Ed, don't. I didn't bring us here for a fight."

I haven't said one fucking word and this overbearing woman insults me. If you ask me Riza, she's the one looking for a fight!

Deciding to end my silence with those exact words, I went to speak when Riza moved on to the business at hand. "Madame Christmas, we'll just need a few moments here. Can you be our look out?"

"No problem. My girls can help distract anyone eager to eavesdrop." The smile on her face bordered on sinister.

"Thank you." Riza waited for her to exit the storage room before turning her attention on me. "Quickly Ed, I need to know exactly what you meant by holding back nothing."

The irritation that was tightening my jaw went slack. In its place was a feeling of warmth spreading onto my face. "Th-that's not something I wanted to say out loud."

Riza pinched the bridge of her nose. "Ed, we don't have a lot of time. Our tails might be in the bar right now. So I need to know how far you two have taken this. What haven't you told me?"

"Why? What does that have to do with anything? Weren't you the one who just said that some things are too painful to say." I didn't want to be defensive, but I couldn't help it. What did it matter if we slept together or not? Why did I have to spell out my mistakes when yours were brushed away as 'too painful'.

Riza sighed trying to alleviate the tension building in her head by rubbing her temples. "Remember you asked, okay?"

"Yeah."

"You know that everyone in Central is trying to dig up dirty facts about Roy and anyone in connection to him. The reason behind this is due to his unexpected popularity. I don't know how or why, but he must be less of an irritation than the others. So if the others can get him to give up voluntarily," Riza placed a strange emphasis on the last word, "the competition in more even."

"Tell me something I don't know." I was pouting. What of it?

A quick flicker of irritation crossed her face at my gracious comment. Riza took a moment to clear her thoughts. "Everything's a target in this situation. No matter how weak or ridiculous. And, Ed, you happen to be a big target. If anyone figures that out I don't how we can recover. I know the secrets we are keeping about your past, but it is the present that has me worried."

I had to admit she had a point. Human Transmutation was one of only three forbidden acts of Alchemy in Amestris – equally as bad a treason. In reality, I should be executed for merely gathering the materials to try it; let alone performing it. Unless there are mitigating circumstances for eleven year olds.

Then if I tack on fraternization and well, yeah, I'm a huge target.

How I managed to stay under the radar was close to a miracle when I think about it.

Riza continued, "If you two even came close to a sexual relationship . . . "

And it was there.

I couldn't stop it. My face heated so quickly that I was probably as red as Madame Christmas' dress.

I watched Riza's eyes widen uncharacteristically. "So, you did," Riza gave a tactful pause, "sleep together?"

I gave a muted nod before dropping my head to hide behind my hair. I desperately wanted to flee. I felt like I had just confessed to my own mother.

Ashamed.

Something I hadn't thought about before now.

Maybe it was because I'm new to all this but it was hard to say. How could I look at Riza? Seeing those soft brown eyes judging me for my stupidity?

And if it got out? It was far, far worse.

I could only hear the rustle of Riza's movements before she spoke again. "Ed, I don't know how you are going to do this, but you have to learn to hide your emotions. What if you are brought before an inquiry? Even careful wording won't let you escape if you are turning all shades of red."

I know. I know.

But what am I supposed do? Alchemically freeze my face?

I felt Riza's gentle touch on my shoulder and I risked raising my head to look up at her. A soft expression had returned to her face. She didn't . . . think less of me for it. "It's going to be rough, but I'm sure you'll find a way. You always do."

I dropped my head again, "I'm not so sure this time."

"Well get there. How can things go back to the way they were if you won't work towards it?"

A knock on the door announced the return of Madame Christmas. "You two better get going. Those stiffs out front won't be distracted much longer."

Riza nodded and I stood up to follow her.

"Hold up there, Erica." I stopped and looked back at Madame Christmas. "Remember he's a planner. Things only go bad if he needs them to. To throw off the scent." She then gave me a wink and made a shooing motion with her hand before grabbing a random bottle of liquor to take back with her.

I left Madame Christmas behind as Riza exited using a back door for deliveries.

Riza and I moved into the crowd of people bar hopping for the night. I was quite surprised at the number of people since it was a Wednesday night. Maybe it was always like this?

Once we had traveled far enough away from Solstice, we separated to go home. Being out in the open limited our speech, so Riza had just said goodbye and hugged me for just a moment too long.

I understood her intentions all too well.

By the time I had returned home from my busy night, I was completely worn out. Deciding that the best thing was to shelve all thoughts until tomorrow, I went to bed with all four furry bodies taking up the left side of the bed.

The place you had been in only one week ago.

I have never been a morning person.

Today was no different.

The two new dogs were impatient to be fed despite the fact that Scruffy seemed to be telling them to knock it off. The black dog gave a snort, circled around a spot on the bed several times, then plopped down putting his head on my stomach.

I reached down and gave him a scratch to let him know that his efforts were appreciated.

It was early for me and I wasn't in any hurry to get up.

I absent mindedly petted Scruffy as I thought about yesterday. I cataloged my thoughts listing out the important facts: one, we discovered that there are inquiries being made into everyone close you; two, it was no mistake that you touched my shoulder; three, Riza's entire explanation regarding current events; three subcategory A, I need to find a way to control my blushing; four, the strange parting comment from Madame Christmas; and five, our tails were still active.

And lastly, there was six – I need to return to Testing today to approve of the testing proof.

Six only amounted to my schedule for today. I looked over at the clock displaying 9:20 in the morning. I still had plenty of time.

Items number one, three, and five was only further proof that every move I made must be thought out. It also meant that this covert crap would continue.

The only sub item, 3A, was a problem but it's going to take some time to figure it out. Best to leave it alone for the moment.

Items number two and four were puzzling as well – your faked accidental touch and Madame Christmas' comment about the way you plan. The touch made me want to believe in something that I shouldn't. What were you trying to tell me?

Or was I reading too much into it?

Maybe it really was an accident and I only wanted it to be intentional.

But what was it that Madame Christmas said? Something about you planning bad things in order to "throw off the scent". An odd phrase that trackers use.

There was something there that I just couldn't piece together. Something that felt important.

Trying to piece together this mental puzzle had me frustrated. I was so good at this!

Wasn't I?

I cracked Dr. Marcoh's code – for better or worse.

I just needed a key. Something that gives me some solid basis to build from.

I kept replaying last night over and over again. With every repetition I focused in on new conversations, new faces, new environments. There was something here. Something I just had to . . .

Oh.

There was Riza's comment too. She said that I had to work through this to get back to where I was. While working to get back something wasn't new to me, it was in this context.

The sounds of pleading whines came from the doorway threatening to break my focus, but soon disappeared as I put everything together using Riza's key.

The only way that they all make sense is that . . .

It was faked?

Could it really be?

All my pain, all my gut wrenching agony was for a fake?

The hideously, wretched weekend from hell where I actually _cried_ for you, was a fake!

You smug, egotistical bastard!

Why the hell didn't you tell me?

You could have spared me all . . . all this? But no!

I glared at the ceiling demanding an answer from it.

But was I right?

A touch that was similar to the beginning of our relationship, a hint that you planned bad things to confuse your pursuers, and encouragement to tough it out.

It all pointed to a fake separation between us.

But it all seemed so coincidental – like I was forcing a connection that wasn't there.

Don't tell me I've being overly hopeful?

My body quaked with the need for movement. I felt like someone had given me a huge dose of adrenaline, but with no way to expend it. I sat up cradling my head in my hands feeling the familiar dual sensation of hot and cold on their respective sides.

Another sharp bark turned my attention to the floor on the right side of the bed. The weird one with the tiny head yapped again.

Well, it was a promise for movement.

I had fed the dogs in a flurry of barking and jumping which ended to the sound of crunching and small tin bowls scraping over a wooden floor. Dogs are funny like that.

With that taken care of I got ready to head over to Testing. I'm sure K was wondering what I was up to – it was almost a half past ten.

And all the while I simultaneously worried that my conclusion wasn't right and hoped that it was.

I was just about to approach the gates that led to Central Command when I saw the newspaper vender, Roger, trying to get my attention. I walked over to the stand figuring that I could at least pick up the morning paper.

Rodger's newspaper stand felt like it was built alongside Central Command. As if it belonged. The small wooden stall wasn't spectacular or in any way impressive, but a fixture nonetheless. Much like its owner. Rodger was short – perhaps the reason I liked him so much. He was one of the few people I had no trouble looking eye-to-eye with. His black hair may be faded to grey with each passing year, but there wasn't a time I could recall when Rodger's hair wasn't grey. Like the stand and the owner were caught in some sort of timelessness.

"Hey Roger, what's new?" I pointed to the morning paper as I spoke and dug out the change I needed to buy it.

Roger gave a nod and pulled out a newspaper he had folded beside the change till. "Oh, not much. Just spending my time watching you military folks rush about. Everyone seems so edgy these days. 50 cens, please."

I handed over the change and took the unusually folded paper from him. I gave a weak chuckle, "Yeah, seems that way doesn't it." I gave a pause trying to remember something I wanted to ask him. "Oh, you wouldn't happen to have a copy of Central University Alchemical Review? I'm look for the May/June issue."

Roger looked star struck for a moment. Then let out a nervous laugh and rubbed a spot on his right arm, "Well, I've never heard of it. You want me to get you a copy?"

I didn't think he'd have it. But, what the hell, it was worth a shot. "No, don't bother. I have some other places to check. Thanks though." I'm going to have to visit the train station after all.

Roger just smiled and waved.

And I walked away wondering just what had been passed to me now?

Note: For those that may not have known Madame Christmas is a canon character. She appears in Chapter 62 of the FMA manga. If you haven't read that far no biggie. I didn't give away any plot points. As for if she in the anime, I have heard that she is, but I haven't seen her debut yet. I'm up to date on the anime in terms of DVD release. So if she is in FMA Brotherhood Part 4, I won't know until the March release.

A/N: That's all for today! Thanks for reading and please review. I do read them as a source of inspiration.


	15. Chapter 15

Secret Notes

I passed thorough Personnel on my way to Testing again. I saw Maria providing directions to someone who was undoubtedly a new recruit on a small map of Central Command. The newbies really stood out. Typically very they were young, walked around in a state of wide-eyed amazement, and always carried a ridiculously large duffle bag.

And the duffle bag was always, always blue.

I suppose in a way it was endearing. They were in shock and awe and trying to fit in.

I never did that.

I showed up young, but there was no awe or blue duffle bag. Only my favorite red coat and an oversized brother.

Maria gave me a wink as I passed and I returned the gesture with a grin. Maybe I should invite her for one of my lunches with Riza.

I tucked the newspaper carefully under my right arm again and moved towards Testing.

Testing was busy enough. The typists were busy at their work stations creating a mechanical hum as they worked. It was similar to bees' buzzing in density. It tended to resonant in your ears for a while too. The receptionist at the front pointed me in K's direction before she explained something again very patiently to a caller – her tone hovering close to irritation but remained pleasant.

I knocked on the door to K's office. She had told me that the mechanical buzz from the typists gave her a headache and she made every effort to deafen the noise.

K opened the door, "There you are! You really weren't in a hurry."

I laughed at K's comment. "I told you."

"Yeah, but that doesn't really mean anything. I get high ranking officers in here all the time in 'no hurry'. Then I get a call an hour later."

I gave a small laugh and nodded in agreement. Mostly because I've done that.

The librarians were used to it.

K moved some files around before locating the one she wanted, "Here it is. I just need you to read through it for mistakes." She fished around in her desk drawer for a moment before handing over a red pen, "Mark anything you want fixed with this. Then, return it to me and I'll get you started on the next step. There are quiet rooms down the hallway to your right."

I took the offered test proof and pen, "Next step?"

"Yep, you have to have grading criterion on file. You know, Question One has to have x, y, and z for it to be right. Or something like that."

"Oh." Dammit, I knew this was too easy.

"Don't look so gloomy! It's not that bad."

"True. I didn't have to type it."

K laughed, "Yeah, but can I suggest typing? It took my best typist some time to muddle through that." K pointed to the exam in my right hand.

I felt a bit sheepish. It was one thing to give you hell over my penmanship.

That telltale left hand of mine went to rub the back of my neck. "Heh, I'll do that for the next step. I didn't mean to be a hassle." I forcefully pulled my left hand down. I suddenly wished that I had bothered to wear gloves – my right hand felt like a glaring sign that read, "Handicapped".

K's eyes followed my movements to see my hands twisting together attempting to conceal the obvious. She sat back a bit before looking down at her desk, "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to . . . "

I quickly cut her off, "It's okay, really." I gave her the best convincing grin I could muster.

K returned with a small smile.

I left to read through the test. The quiet rooms were a bit bigger than a phone booth, but effective. I couldn't hear the typists.

I didn't take me long to review it. I made my notes for misspellings and missing words. I also filled in the areas sadly entered as 'unintelligible' on the question form.

I really didn't think it was that bad. It was approved after all.

Reading didn't take long, but writing in the corrections did. I focused everything I had to make my left hand write clearly.

In the end, I wasn't sure that I accomplished that.

I checked K's office to see that she was still there. It was near one in the afternoon so I was worried she might have gone to lunch. I rounded the corner to see her working away in her office. Her door open only because the typists' mechanical hum had ceased for the hour.

I knocked on the door to let her know I was there, "Hey K, here are the corrections."

She looked up and motioned for me to enter, "Let me see."

I handed over the test and she looked through it. I saw her squint a few times and cock her head off to the left side, "What is it?"

"Well, I was just thinking that having you dictate this might be more efficient."

I felt the need to hide my arm badly. I really wish this was winter. Then I'd have my long sleeves and gloves and no one was the wiser. "Oh, okay."

"It's not . . . that. Just that I thought the going back and forth would be a pain for you and my typists."

That made sense. But it was still a way of saying that my handwriting was crap – albeit a nice way of say it. "I suppose. How does that work?"

"Easy, you speak and she types. I'll have you stay and do that this afternoon since," she glanced at her clock, "they'll be returning from their lunch break in a few minutes. That way it is over and done with." K saw that I wasn't happy about this arrangement, "You can also type it yourself, but that defeats the purpose."

I nodded, understanding that there wasn't really any room for argument, "Point taken."

K smiled, "Alright, your typist is Marita and she works in cubicle 8." She handed me the corrections back and I left to locate Marita.

As it turned out, Marita was a nice person to work with. She was quick to follow my dictation, but admitted that she had no clue what any of my alchemical terms meant – let alone how to spell said terms. Once we worked that problem out everything moved along quickly.

It was also pretty funny watching her make a list of terms just for the sake of spelling.

We agreed to meet up on Monday to type the grading criterion for two reasons. The biggest one was that I had to write it. Can't really type what doesn't exist. The second was to allow Marita a full day to complete all priority work before spending an entire day typing my grading criterion.

It sounded horrible and it would be. But I would be done after Monday.

With the questionnaire completed, I finally left Central Command a little past three in the afternoon. I was tired, developing a headache, and hungry since I skipped lunch.

And to top it off, I had a brand new tail following me. From the quick view I got, it appeared to be Master Sergeant Wheeler. A man who was far better at espionage than Lieutenant Mills. To begin with, he wasn't a moving wall. He was a short, dark haired man who was smart enough to not wear a military uniform while following me.

A point in his favor and a disadvantage to me.

I decided that I needed to eat something. Plus, picking a café gave me the opportunity to test the abilities of my tail – to see how well he blended in with civilians. I was hoping to find something of a weak spot I could benefit from.

I went to Panaé because I knew that the outdoor patio would be perfect for this. That and I loved their French Dip sandwich. Best slow roasted beef in the city as far as I was concerned.

I placed my order and picked out a table in the corner of the patio against the restaurant. In this position, no one could sneak up from behind me thanks to a solid wall. I sat in the corner seat at the table to ensure clear view of the patio. About the only failing point would be if Wheeler climbed onto the roof. And who in their right mind would do that? It was tiled.

The waiter brought me my iced tea and sandwich. I waited until he was just out of view before I finally got around to my newspaper.

My days seemed to be getting longer lately. When was the last time I took a break? Oh, that's right it was before I decided to add you into my life.

I opened the newspaper up to see a sealed letter folded in with the paper. Holding the newspaper up with my right hand, I flipped the letter over with my left to read the inscription on the envelope. In your cramped writing was a singled word on the envelope 'Ed'.

I felt my heart pick up a beat. I wanted to rip it open and read it right then and there.

But then there was Wheeler.

In an undesired show of self-control, I placed the envelope on my lap so that it was out of sight.

A multitude of thoughts began to push their way to the forefront of my mind in the absence of fact. The unknown feeding into speculation. I forcefully calmed the whirring of analytical thought in my mind.

Wait.

Just wait a little longer.

Satisfied with shelving my thoughts for the time being, I enjoyed my late lunch and read through the newspaper.

I finally returned home about an hour later with your letter secreted away in the newspaper under my arm once again. I was greeted by four dogs upon my arrival who desperately wanted my undivided attention.

Something I couldn't give them. I sat down in my overstuffed chair – your letter in my hands.

For a while I stared at it.

It was just an envelope. Nothing special.

But what it contained was huge.

It was either the nail in the proverbial coffin or confirmation of my hopeful theory.

Either way I was about to find out.

Resigning myself to whatever was coming, I ripped it open. Inside:

Ed,

I wanted to continue our conversation from the other day. I understand your comment. Given the situation it was fair, but I wanted to clear up any misdirection.

I had thought that we were in agreement. The current environment is far too volatile for both of us. It could mean the end of everything if we continued our involvement.

The page blurred and trembled slightly in my hand. Forcing down the lump in my throat I continued.

Neither of us wants that. Instead, I had thought we agreed on a plan in the library to stop all involvement until this is over. That way we could avoid any problems both personally and professionally.

I felt my jaw lock and the tears that had threatened to fall suddenly dried up. Avoiding any professional problems – is that all you worry about?

My eyes shut.

A bitter feeling rose in the back of my mind reminding me that rank was everything to you. Even more than I had thought.

Wait . . . what plan in the library?

However, after two rather informative conversations, I was told that you have not understood my intent at all. You are under the impression that our involvement is completely terminated. This was not the arrangement I had in mind.

The last sentence stuck out in my mind. This would mean . . . that my theory was right?

I got it right. It was faked.

The paper in my hands shook once again, but this time it was due to conflicting desires. I wanted to call you. I wanted to see you. I just wanted . . .

But I knew that I couldn't do any of those things. I had to stay away – for the time being. Right? I had to wait this out.

You weren't leading me on. You weren't holding back. You were still trying.

I wasn't a fool for picking you – for returning to you. I didn't leave everything behind for . . . for everything that I went through this these past few days.

Once this is finished and someone is promoted, we can reevaluate the situation. Preferably, I will be the one promoted. In this case, I want to pick up where we left off. However, if I am not selected, then we have to make some difficult choices. I don't know where that will lead us.

My momentary elation was deflated like the popping of a balloon. I sunk deep into my chair.

I wish I could see you and tell you this in person.

Remember, I asked you to be patient with me. I've never taken anyone seriously in a long time. It is difficult. I know patience isn't your specialty, but please try.

I looked at the letter recalling that day. You did ask me for patience. You told me that you scared easily.

You confided in me.

The small hopeful smile that had been flickering on and off throughout the letter returned with renewed strength. It meant that everything was . . . was real.

Even if everything was placed on hold for the time being, it meant something. There were no convenient excuses out.

Suddenly everything felt so much better.

I felt so calm. My mind quiet for once.

Now, there will be many problems ahead for us. Everything must be planned out carefully. This is why I gave you the test and certification nullifications to work on. This should keep you away from Central Command.

Umm, whoops?

I'll try to find a way to keep you informed. I will also find a way for you and Havoc to work together. He is an expert in interrogation and can teach you. More information on this will be forthcoming.

Destroy this letter.

Until then,

Roy

I set the letter down on the coffee table and resettled back into my chair basking in my moment of comfort. Happy in the fact that I was right about the fake – about the fact that you understood I needed a direct answer from you. You took a big risk in writing this letter. But it was a risk you took on my behalf.

What more could I ask for?

I put the letter in the fireplace to burn it. I wish I didn't have to, but with my new stealthier spy I couldn't risk it.

Still, if everything goes according to plan then . . . I could go back.

I couldn't wait.

Friday morning began early.

At seven in the morning there was a loud pounding at my front door that was accompanied by a chorus of barking. I threw myself together and slowly made my way to the front door. I had stepped into my living room in time to hear the lock on my front door open.

There were only two possibilities. Either you or Kain was impatiently opening my door.

Okay, there was always the off chance that I was about to be robbed.

But who is that stupid?

The door swung open revealing a worried Kain and a smoking Havoc. Kain flew into the house to sooth the dogs all the while yelling at Havoc.

Who knew he had it in him?

Havoc brushed off Kain and zeroed in on me. I still stood at the opening to my hallway.

"Mornin' Chief." Havoc grinned around his cigarette.

I tried to look pissed off, but I only felt tired. It's like the frickin' crack of dawn. "Yeah, morning. Nothing like a wake-up call."

Havoc grinned and kicked my door closed with his foot. "Well, I just had to walk the Master Sergeant over today. He was _so_ worried about the dogs."

Kain decided that he wasn't going to be insulted publicly, "Who wouldn't? You probably threw them into the General's office."

Ah, so this was the excuse.

"I did."

Kain look horror struck. "Y-you didn't!"

Havoc looked pleased, "Yep, tenderizing. I figured that they could make a decent stew. Even if they're kinda small."

Kain was caught between passing out and disbelief. "W-wha . . . you . . . stew?"

While appreciated the circus in your office, I didn't appreciate it at seven in the morning in my living room. "Kain, he isn't going to eat them. And they're fine."

Kain snapped out of his self-imposed stupor and began to fully inspect the dogs. "Yeah, well . . . it isn't funny."

"Of course it is." Havoc blew smoke up onto my ceiling.

"Moving on," I tried to suppress my rising irritation.

"Oh right." Kain motioned to the brown dog, "This is Caitlin. And this", he motioned to the dog with the small head, "is George. I'll also come by to pick up Joey today after work to take him to his new home."

"Fine by me."

Havoc gave a shrug of his shoulders. "If the dog sitting business is over," he let the sentence hang in the air to see if any objections would be made. "We can get to the important stuff."

Kain shot him a dirty look.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion.

Havoc continued, "I'm guessin' you read the letter."

"Yeah." What did you tell everybody?

"Good. Startin' this afternoon you are going to be spending a lot of time in Personnel. Be there at two."

"Personnel?" I was curious about the selected department.

"Yep, Boss didn't like it being in HQ, but with the firings an' all it made the most sense. The Hawk's decision."

I smiled at the last part. Your letter made it clear that you wanted me as far from this inquisition as possible. However, Riza's word is always the final word. And she was right. It was the best cover. I would eventually have to work with Personnel to revoke the certifications.

Havoc pulled Kain away from the dogs and opened my front door. "See ya later, Chief."

Kain waved before Havoc pushed him out the door first.

"Yeah, later."

My door was slammed shut again. I finally walked over to my door and locked it. I sighed and leaned against it. Why did everything have to happen so early?

Four sets of expectant eyes looked back me. I could read them clearly. All four asked Breakfast?

I rubbed my face to try and wake up. Today was going to be another long day.

And I still had to write the grading criterion.

I really did miss my lonesome days in the library.

At two, I arrived at Personnel. I was about to ask the front desk where to go when I saw Havoc leaning in a corner trying to chat with Teresa.

A small part of me grinned maliciously. I knew that Teresa was in a rather serious relationship with a Captain in Firearms. Havoc had no chance whatsoever.

The thought of him being shot down made my miserable morning that much easier to bear.

I walked over to him just in time to catch it – as Teresa walked away and Havoc's happy face fell. I announce my arrival, "Havoc?"

He turned to look in my direction and quickly composed himself. "Oh, hey, Chief. Ready?"

I nodded yes. And even though I knew, "What's the matter?"

"Aw, I've got no luck."

I looked over my shoulder and waved at Teresa as she took her place behind the front booth. "You mean her?"

I watched his eyes widen and he put on his best smile, "You know her?"

"Yeah."

Havoc's voice pick up a tone and for a moment I felt bad that I was screwing with him. "You don't think that . . . " He left the sentence hanging as he angled his head in Teresa's direction.

"No." I got to watch him fall apart all over again. I wonder if your sadistic side was rubbing off on me.

He pleaded, "Why?"

"She's already got a boyfriend. Pretty serious too."

Havoc took a heavy drag from his cigarette, "No luck at all."

Giving up on his love life for the moment, we went into a meeting room to begin my interrogation training. Since this was my first day, Havoc only wanted to go over an introduction. He said I could spend the weekend trying to find my telltale signs.

All in all, that was fine with me. I had so much to do!

Havoc dove in his lecture. Right away I wondered if Havoc taught at the academy because it seemed rather practiced. Plus, it was really boring. A lot of it was about how interrogators collected information, how they bluffed about having sensitive information, and the like.

I'm a terrible student if it isn't a subject I'm interested in. I don't care about the whats and whys. I only needed to know how to control my cues.

Anything more was useless information.

Lengthy, boring useless information that made me long for my bed. I could really use a nap.

Around four, Havoc wrapped up his discussion and we agreed to meet again at the same time on Tuesday. He didn't like that I was skipping Monday, but I already made plans.

Not my fault you tried to make plans for me.

He reminded me that something could happen at any moment. So, I reluctantly agreed that I would let him know if I finished early.

I'm really miss my quiet days spent in the library.

A/N: Whew! Writing that letter was flippin' difficult. Many thanks for reading.


	16. Chapter 16

Psychosomatic

A good portion of my weekend was spent trying to find what triggered my telltale expressions – my irrefutable blushing among the most notable.

The blush was actually quite easy. I never blushed this much until you entered my life.

Which was the very fact I was attempting conceal.

Fortunately, as long as a few select words were avoided I would be okay. The problem seemed to center around _who_ said the words more than the words themselves. Well, context added a little bit of a problem.

I did find it entertaining to stand in front of a mirror thinking up every dirty phrase I could associate with you just to see the result. And the result was so, so obvious. Being fair haired apparently meant that I could blush so badly it traveled all the way to my ears.

How in the hell did I think that I could conceal this? I think every word in the dictionary creates some kind of revealing emotion for me.

It was a rather strange exercise to go through – almost a little too self-aware.

My eyes had a tendency to widen as a small grin forms on my face in association with the word "Al". I had a habit of looking down and allowing my entire expression to drop in association with the word "Mom". The word "Rockbell", or "Winry" brought a nervous pull to my eyebrows and I had the urge to wince.

"Insubordination" was met with a lifted eyebrow and a look that screamed "really?"

In the end, only words like "a", "is", "there", and the like allowed a neutral reaction. Put them in a sentence, however, and the effect changes dramatically.

So I needed an interrogator who spoke in short, cut-off sentences.

I was never any good at this.

Maybe I could run through the Periodic Table while simultaneously answering questions.

The rest of my weekend was devoted to creating the grading criterion. I ended up giving myself the test – it was the easiest solution. Based on my own answers, I created the criterion for Marita to type on Monday.

Monday . . .

Monday was going to be torture. Either I spent the entire day dictating to Marita or I spent half the day dictating to Marita with the other half in Havoc's Interrogation Training 101.

Just the thought made me want to beg any deity out there for help.

Phff, like they'd answer.

On Monday morning, I wanted to run away.

It was only nine in the morning and I hated my day already.

Quite the cheery way to begin the day.

I reluctantly went over to Testing to find Marita. As is turn out, Marita was under the assumption that I came to work at eight sharp like everyone else. So when I arrived two hours later, she was quite displeased.

I asked her where she got that assumption. Because I sure as hell didn't tell her that.

With a small huff, she dismissed the conversation altogether with an "oh well" attitude and began the dictation. Which was exactly what I was hoping for – I sure wasn't going to apologize for her assumption.

We were both inconvenienced here.

For the next three hours, we worked out the grading criterion with a few bumps. It was mostly over spelling Alchemic terms – a funny fact since she had so diligently written down many other Alchemic terms just a few days ago. Marita even gave up her lunch hour to finish it. A gesture I appreciated.

By one, I was done with Testing and the new Alchemy Exam was ready for the upcoming testing cycle. I wanted to do nothing more than to grab a quick lunch and go home. However, I promised Havoc otherwise.

So at a half past two, I was walking back to your office to find Havoc. I couldn't make lunch stretch any further.

I opened the door slightly to signal Havoc.

Inside the office was orderly and quiet. The usual atmosphere decimated since the whole spy thing began. Kain was fixing something in a large gray box with wires hanging out of it. Hawkeye was no where to be seen so I guessed that she was in your office. Falman . . . well Falman never did anything that wasn't neat and orderly. Breda had the afternoon paper spread flat against the desk concealed by paper stacks – so at least something was familiar.

And Havoc was working with an intensity that I had never seen before.

Breda noticed me first and threw a pencil at Havoc. Upon impact, Havoc was ready to explode until he followed the line from Breda's index finger to me. He never looked so happy to see me before. Thrilled, he threw the offending pencil back at Breda, shoved the stacks of paper away from him onto Breda's newspaper and gathered his things. I barely had time to give a smile in Kain's direction before Havoc yanked me back out into the corridor.

Falman never once looked up from the filing cabinet. Now that is dedication.

Havoc didn't stop his hurried pace until we reached Personnel. While his enthusiasm for this horrible task was significant, I could barely keep up with his mad-dash run! My somewhat less-than-lengthy stride had a hard time keeping pace.

But once we were at Personnel's doors Havoc came to a halt.

"Uh, Hav, aren't we going in?"

Havoc was busy digging through his pockets. He didn't stop until his hands had located a crumpled pack of cigarettes and silver lighter.

I suddenly understood the furious work pace and the record breaking dash to Personnel.

He was suffering from nicotine withdrawal. Hawkeye must have banned cigarettes along with the any disorderly behavior for the time being.

One cigarette down and several drags later, Havoc was on speaking terms again. "So much better."

"What you're speaking again?" Havoc turned to give me a look that asked what gives? So I was a little cranky from everything. I responded with a huff.

Havoc stretched and finished off the last cigarette. "Well, no matter. Just get over it 'cause we begin the real trainin' today."

Not like I had an option.

The next two hours was torture indeed. Havoc wanted to know the results of my experiment on the correlation between words and my facial expressions – my wording not his. I let him know that I didn't have a hope. _Everything_ seemed to make a correlation. The sole difference was that some words worked on a stand-alone basis and others required contextual meaning.

Havoc seemed unimpressed. Apparently, this is true of everybody – I wasn't unique. The point of the exercise wasn't to find words that generated a neutral response. Rather it was to make me self-aware.

Which I now am.

But it doesn't help me any.

To which Havoc replied with a shrug, "Of course. That's where the training comes in."

Oh, I so hate his methodology.

Havoc launched into an explanation on how, once aware, people can begin to alter their behavior. Something that can take years of practice to learn successfully – which I didn't have. He even likened it to nail biting.

I don't bite my nails. I blush at innuendoes.

Said by _you_.

But to Havoc it was all the same. The scientist in me was screaming bloody murder that it wasn't. One was a habitual behavior born from a conscious act. The other was a physiological response to an external event.

Thus, in sum, different!

Yet, here I sat listening to Havoc go on and on and on . . .

At five, I was released from Havoc thanks to the large clock tower – an object that I was now eternally grateful to. Your wonderful, wonderful chiming signaled the end to my torment.

Havoc reminded me to be back tomorrow at one. He had a lot more to get done.

Dammit.

I began to drag myself home when I heard a familiar soft chuckle. I looked over my shoulder to see Riza in a highly amused state. Her expression bordering on an actual explosive laugh that her fisted left hand held to her mouth kept locked in.

Heading over to her, I demanded, "Out with it."

"You should see yourself." I raised an eyebrow. Her voice teetering on the edge of cracking from the suppressed laugh, "You look like someone about to be sentenced."

I spun on my right heel to lean against the wall while standing beside Riza – my arms crossed behind my head. "Yeah, well you spend the afternoon with Havoc."

With the laughter successfully reigned into compliance, only a betraying smirk graced Riza's lips. "Well, I haven't sat through that particular lecture, but I have sat through similar ones. In fact, most of us suffer through a six month program called the Academy."

Oh yeah, I ditched that training.

Riza continued, "It's a lot worse in big doses."

I let out a heavy sigh, "I suppose, but that doesn't make this any easier."

"No, but that wasn't the point." She gave me a wink, "All us adults have to do things we don't like."

Now that wasn't fair.

I wrinkled my nose in distaste, "So that's how you're gonna play it?"

"Perhaps a low blow, but effective."

I wanted to give her a "fine", but I figured that would only exemplify her point. "Guess so." I leaned forward to leave. "Oh, are we . . . "

Riza took a moment to catch my meaning. "Yes, we're still being micromanaged, but I do believe that it is becoming more tedious than beneficial."

I nodded, "Could I ask one favor?"

"Perhaps," a small playful smile forming on Riza's face.

"Allow cigarette breaks. Or some excuse to have one."

She frowned, "Bad?"

"Very."

"And I was beginning to like the new work ethic." I gave Riza a pleading look. "Granted."

"Thank you."

Over the next few days, I spent my time divided. I took a few hours in the morning to gather research on learned behaviors, brain chemistry, and the like. Then, I spent the afternoon with Havoc and attempted to adjust to his fractured method.

Havoc was excited by how quickly I was learning. I let him think that it was his doing.

I reality, I would have gotten nowhere without spending my mornings researching in the library. In this time, I determined the exact differences between learned behavior and psychosomatic responses. With this frame was I able to dig deeper into the chemical make-up of my particular problem.

In truth, I was willing to self medicate if necessary. But as my research proved there was no imbalance to correct my particular problem. Well, outside of seriously debilitating myself by restricting the ability to speak or numbing my prefrontal cortex. So that idea was tossed.

However, one research paper on the chemistry of the brain was highly informative. It discussed the connections between interpretation and physiology – in essence the development of psychosomatic behavior. It was sadly a small testing pool but at least gave me ideas on managing my particular problem. The paper theorized that experiences with stimuli can create physical responses that are later learned by the limbic system of the brain. The brain interprets these responses as desirable – whether it is appropriate, beneficial to avoiding unpleasant occurrences or the like. Thus, when similar stimuli are encountered, the brain tells the body to recreate the response. In short, what worked once will work twice. This is especially true if the response encountered was interpreted as pleasurable.

There were two things I hated about this. One, it bordered learned behavior and made Havoc somewhat right in his methodology. Two, I learned that while I, personally, hated blushing – you liked it.

Apparently, my brain is wired to please you.

Now that I know that, I hated it too.

But it proved useful. I found that introducing unpleasant stimuli worked the most effective. The afternoons with Havoc worked best on altering my response pattern. I would think up some rather detailed memory involving you, blush, and then force myself to listen to Havoc for about 10 to 15 minutes.

As Havoc said, I am improving rapidly.

The next few days also began a new routine. Since I was going to Central Command on a regular basis, I stopped by Roger's newsstand quite often.

And quite often I got a little something extra in my paper.

It all seemed a little childish passing notes, but it was a motivational factor for me like none other. Every time I cursed coming to this place, there was Roger's newsstand.

I knew that there was no way we could speak in person – especially considering the contents of the notes. So those silly little notes were all I had. The rush that pulsed through my system every time I bought a newspaper was thrilling. I was more eager to see if there was a note tucked inside rather than what was printed on the paper.

Who knew?

Apparently long distance can work.

I wondered if you felt the same. Do you experience that same excitement I did? Or was it something else?

But I never wrote that down. It wasn't that I was afraid like before. More like I didn't want to ruin the fun. That and my penmanship is still crap. It was almost as if I wrote in code with meaning to.

I'm glad that you've learned to read it.

Plus, Roger had to enjoy the extra cash. I know that I always gave him a little extra when I slipped in a note for you.

Everything was going so good. I was working on correcting the biggest undiscovered liability we had. I'm sure that you and Riza were taking care of any interference that came across your paths. And best of all . . . the break up was a fake.

I couldn't be more content.

No questions plagued my thoughts.

No nagging doubts.

Just some time to wait out and a promotion to hope for.

That's what I really believed in those few idyllic days.

*Phew! There's some scientific jargon in this chapter. So sorry to bog everything down with technical talk, but it was necessary. That is it how Ed would see it. Second it was fun to use all that knowledge I gained studying. It may seem odd, but brain activity is a big field in Criminology. I took several classes in it. As for the reason behind Ed's problem, I made it up. Mostly basing it on learned behavior models since this is what I worked with the most. Plus I couldn't let Ed _always_ be right. Some quick definitions for those that may not know:

Psychosomatic – means to involve both the mind and body. An excellent descriptor for Ed's problem.

Prefrontal cortex – the foremost part of the brain. One of the many things it does is regulate emotional control.

A/N: I know. I know. It's been awhile. Life happened and to be fair I warned you. I'm happy that it was only a brief break. I've disappeared for a lot longer than that. Also, for those tenacious few, I'm hoping to wrap this up by September (this September).

But I make no promises.

Many thanks for reading.


	17. Chapter 17

Inevitable

It started on a Friday of all days.

Havoc and I had wrapped up another training session early. I had been progressing so well that our time spent together was little more than a practice interrogation session.

Frankly, I wished we had started there. Hands on training was more my style.

And somewhere in between I had filled out the forms for revoking the State Certifications I requested. They weren't filed yet because they were stacked in your office.

In some unknown paper pile.

In the midst of all this progress, the inevitable happened.

The very thing we had hoped to avoid. The very thing I was preparing to deal with.

Maria knocked once before walking in on the completed training session. Her normally pleasant smile replaced with a harried sense of urgency. "Havoc, you better get out of here." She handed him a sealed document pouch, "Take this and go back to your office."

Havoc took the offered object and stared at her in confusion. Maria continued, "No time. Just go. The explanation is inside for Mustang." Havoc gave her a quick nod of understanding before dashing out the door – not even bothering to pick up his cigarette pack.

A rather bad indication.

Maria turned back to me, "Ed, do you know the route back to the library?"

I nodded, "Yeah, I use it all the time."

"Good. Go there and wait."

I felt my heart pick up a beat as all signs began to point to trouble – big trouble. "What's going on?"

Maria looked out the door briefly before turning back to respond to my question. Tight lines creased her face and pulled her mouth into a thin line. She tried to give me a sympathetic look. "You've been targeted."

A single phrase.

The room dropped so quiet I could hear a faint ringing in my ears.

Now, I felt panic clamp my chest tight – my head felt a little light.

Wasting no more time on conversation, I headed for the back route to the library. Passing through familiar routes, I moved as quickly as I could without drawing attention to myself. A smile here, a wave there – nothing strange about this at all.

Except the ever growing sense of dread filling the pit of my stomach.

What was it?

What was it?

What did they know about me?

I hid deep within the Alchemical Wing. Hoping that whoever is coming for whatever reason would have to work to find me. Or at least give me time to prepare for their arrival. I quickly grabbed passing books to make a sizable stack for show. I didn't care what they were about. Odds were that whoever was coming wouldn't know a thing about Alchemy or, if they did, wouldn't bother to glance at the titles.

Time passed slowly – or quickly.

I couldn't tell.

My entire body jumped with every creak or closing door I could hear. My heart was pounding in my chest making me want to pant for breath. The grip I had on the randomly selected book was nearly breaking the hardbound cover.

I shook my head forcefully.

I _had_ to calm down.

If I act like when whoever arrives, there won't be a need for an interrogation – perhaps one to see who my informant was.

I held my breath to slow the rapid beating in my chest. Letting out a slow controlled breath, I instantly felt better. With that under control, I stretched my real limbs to force the tension from them. There was no way to stop the quaking in them though – the adrenaline pumping through my veins would only dissipate with time.

Now think.

There are only two scenarios. Either they know about my past or my present.

The present we prepared for – I knew what to do.

I ran through the scenarios that Havoc and I practiced – step by step. The logical act settling the shaking in my limbs.

I know what to do.

Soon, I heard the steady cadence of several pairs of boots.

I took in another deep breath and braced myself as well as possible for the last time. I picked up the abused book from a moment ago for appearance's sake.

The rhythmic clomping grew ever closer until it stopped. Muffled voices were heard. Then the tempo began anew.

Growing louder and louder as they reached their destination.

The next time it stopped, those boots and the men in them stood before me. To address me.

A rather burly looking officer was flanked by four other officers of equal stature. I looked up from the book trying my best to appear confused by this visit. The first officer spoke, "Fullmetal Alchemist, you are to come with us immediately." One of the flanking officers stepped forward holding wooden stocks.

The only way to handcuff an Alchemist.

I felt the tension I had banished just moments ago return to my limbs – making me worry my movements would look shaky.

I set down the book while never taking my eyes off the first officer. True, I wasn't going to make this easy. If I did that, it would be suspicious and, besides, I didn't want to. But at that moment, I was torn between a rising sense of apprehension and pride that they felt the need to assign five officers to arrest me.

I placed on a look of irritation at the first officer's request. Hope this is believable.

Opting to run with verbally obstinate, "Why?"

The first officer squared his shoulders in a primitive show of size, "To answer to charges made against you." He gestured for the second officer to step forward.

The second officer didn't move.

I spoke to avoid letting the grin of satisfaction reach my lips, "From who? By who? I'm in the middle of important research. I don't have time to slack off." Yeah, I think I grabbed a basic book on Alchemy somewhere in my flurry to the back of the wing. For all I know, I could have a book on kittens.

Okay the transmutation of kittens.

The first officer broke eye contact with me to look at the immobile second. He, then, turned back to level a narrow gaze at me. Intimidation tactic number two. "That is why you are to come with us. All I can tell you is that I am acting on the Council's orders. Now, if you would?" He gestured for me to step forward since his second was clearly rooted to the floor.

Intimidation factors aside, he was being rather polite. I made a gesture of "fine" before I stood up. I set the books aside carefully and made a show of dusting off myself before walking a few steps towards the first officer. Clearly, he was pleased that he didn't need to wrestle me into compliance as a telltale look of relief passed over his face. Those large shoulders relaxing from their squared position.

I stopped and pointed at the second, "But not in that."

That satisfied look fell. "We have orders."

"Na uh."

He tried another demonstration of size as his shoulders rose again. Yeah, I know you're bigger than me – a lot of people are. That doesn't change the fact that I used to spar with a seven foot suit of armor. Resigned that intimidation wasn't working, "Please, sir."

I looked at his lapels for the first time. He was a Second Lieutenant. Despite my knotting ball of worry tearing up my gut, I felt the urge to laugh. The military and its stupid rules on obedience to rank. "No. If you want to make this easy," I pointed at the stocks again, "then lose those."

The entire group thought this over in silence. The still silent officers three through five darted wide-eyed glances between the first and second officers. Number four, who stood conveniently in the back, even made a small nod with his head in the affirmative. The second officer made an effort to speak for the group by placing the stocks behind his back.

I was guessing at this point that these guys drew the short end of the stick – so to speak. The poor unlucky bastards that had to bring an infamous wrecking machine in.

As the old saying goes, they were more afraid of me than I was of them. And the only thing I was afraid of was the charges against me that this group was ignorant of.

The first officer sighed. The first act that showed he wasn't as staunch of a military man as he presented himself to be. "Very well. You won't try anything?"

"Not if you lose 'em." Go on disobey that pesky order.

The first office turned and gave a quick nod to the second officer. With that the second turned from the group to leave the wing – the quick staccato of his boots indication enough that he wanted to get as far away as possible without actually running. Once he was out of sight, the first gestured for me to walk forward and the group flanked me with two officers on each side.

So this was it.

At least I wasn't handcuffed.

I had never gone to the Justice Branch of the military before.

Can't say I wanted to return any time soon.

I was brought before a magistrate to answer to charges of Human Transmutation made by the State. I was betting that those charges were written by either Ebner, Raven or Hakuro or a combination thereof.

It was still a capitol offense.

I could be executed by firing squad.

Not exactly a pleasant feeling.

I sat through a long processing procedure before they showed me to my cell in stocks.

Dammit those things are uncomfortable. I tried to convince my jailer that I wouldn't do anything, but with a capitol offense charged against me there was no room argument.

And I was deemed a flight risk. Go figure.

The sky outside of the small cell window was dark with no stars in sight. The wooden plank they had the nerve to call a bed was pushed against the corner of the cell. I climbed on it and pulled myself into the corner so that my back pressed against the cold stone wall. I pulled my knees to my chest then shifted the weight of the stocks onto the right arm – providing a small amount of relief to my aching left.

I've been in jail before. Usually because I'm such a suspicious character. But unlike today, I didn't have the satisfaction of knowing that soon the mistake would be realized and I could go home.

There was no mistake today.

I really did it. It was over eight years ago, but I really did it.

I had been so busy preparing for my current misdeeds that I completely overlooked the past. I knew it was there sure.

But I made no plans for this.

I had no plans with you and the others either.

The others . . .

You and I knew we would cover up our recent . . . involvement. But this?

Why would you risk this?

This one was all on me.

An icy sense of fear shot through me, Al. Oh dear merciful . . . was Al brought up on charges too? Did they send someone to Granny's to get him? Was he sitting in a cramped cell right now too? Oh please, please . . . leave Al alone.

In that small cramped corner, I spent the night.

I've never been so scared in my entire life.

My morning wake-up call came in the form of loud metal clanging and the shout of "Breakfast". I didn't know what time it was, but it felt early. Soon the shuffle of the general population of prisoners walking single-file to the mess hall was heard.

My small wing was quiet.

Some time later, an officer went down the wing to feed us.

I guess I won't be leaving this place for some time.

I suppose general population would be worse.

Awake now, the fears from last night worked their way into my mind. Worst of all was that I had no way of deflecting them. I couldn't walk the dogs. I couldn't bury myself in research. I couldn't ask Riza to lunch or dinner so I could talk this out.

All I could do was sit here and let them sink deeper and deeper into my mind.

What could I do?

A small part of me wished for you to come sweeping in and save me from this. I knew that it was a passing fantasy. I would never want you to do that really. Rescuing me would damn you. The goal you've worked so hard for, the promotion we've all worked so hard for, would be destroyed. It was even possible that you would be tossed in here too as a conspirator. Hell, everyone in your office could be considered a conspirator.

And it would be all my fault.

The reality was . . . I'm on my own. You won't come to save me. No one will. This is something I'm going to have to figure out on my own.

Otherwise all I am is a liability.

The roles I get to play for you are never any good.

An impudent child . . .

Temporary chaos . . .

The People's Alchemist . . .

Letting you walk away without regret . . .

Now this.

It is my turn to play defender. To show that you didn't have a clue about this. I lied from the very start. If I take this on my own, none of it should come your way. You'll be free and clear. And Ebner and the others are all left with are wasted efforts.

Likewise, I'll have to defend Al. If he is . . . if he has been brought up on charges I'll get him excluded. Typically, children are pardoned from most criminal acts.

And even though we were both children, I'm the only one you could reasonably charge as an adult.

The facts were on my side in this case. I am the older one. So it isn't far fetched to say that I told him to do it or I talked him into it. Even though Al researched it with me, I was the one who put the whole thing together. I was the one who decided to use everything Teacher taught us this way.

And above all else, I'm the one labeled a genius; a prodigy.

Al is just a normal kid with normal limits.

If I could make all of this work, no one but me will take the fall.

I shut my eyes and willed away the fear settling deep within my mind. The feeling leaving me with the urge to hold myself. My body slowly rocking to bring comfort to my trouble mind.

If I was lucky . . . I would be forced to resign. I would walk away with nothing, but I'd be okay. I was willing to barter this. Perhaps, offing my resignation could help.

Other alternatives grew increasingly bad. I could be dishonorably discharged. With my reputation there was no way I could walk away from that stigma. I could be placed in solitary confinement for the rest of my life. Locked away in some military prison until everyone has forgotten me – wearing these damned stocks until I die. And, of course, I could be executed.

A good ending for most involved with the exception of mine ending with the crackling of the firing squad.

There was no alternative for me that included "happily ever after" in this scenario.

I was brought out of my apprehensive musing by the sound of Kain clearing his throat. I looked up surprised to even hear someone I would identify as Kain.

But there he was. With his thick, black framed square glasses and dopey grin.

"Hi, Ed."

It felt surreal. Like I wanted to reach out and poke Kain to see if he was real. "Uh, hi."

Kain's grin widen. I could tell he was trying to make the best of this situation. He clasped his left wrist with his right hand to keep from wringing them together. "Are you okay?"

Just plagued with thoughts of death and worry. I shrugged in a vain attempt to appear collected, "Yeah."

"I heard about it just before I went home yesterday. I didn't believe it. I tried to see you last night, but they wouldn't let me."

Dear sweet, considerate Kain. Thanks for trying.

He continued, "So I went to your place to take care of the dogs. Funny, huh? Here you are and all I could do was take care of some dogs." The grin he was trying so hard to keep in place fell. His eyes began to water as he took in shaky breaths. "How stupid is that?"

I felt my eyes tear up at the sight. "It isn't."

Tears rolled freely down his face, "How? That's all I can do. I didn't even know what was going until then. Lieutenant Hawkeye and Second Lieutenant Havoc knew. Even Second Lieutenant Breda and Warrant Officer Falmen weren't surprised so they knew something. I was the only one who knew nothing."

Because we wanted to protect you. I went to speak, but Kain kept going.

"The only times you guys tell me anything is when something mechanical breaks. Otherwise I'm left out."

I was struck by a sudden sense of irony. All this time I was trying to find a way to fit in – to be apart of the office. I felt like an outsider.

And Kain was feeling the same way.

All this time . . . the things I thought I needed to know or the things I thought I needed to be, were the very same things the people around me were trying to figure out too. I wasn't far behind some social learning curve where I needed to catch up desperately. I was right in the normal range.

I've always been so far ahead I didn't realize what it was like to be normal.

Because I was normal.

A strange rush of relief surged through me and for a moment I was content. I looked up at the expectant Kain, "I know. But you aren't the only one."

Kain looked at me redden eyes wide, "W-what?"

"Be glad you aren't involved. The only reason I am . . . " I held my hands up to gesture to the room I was occupying the stocks making the movement difficult.

"I wanted to help."

"There's nothing to do."

"But take care of the dogs," the last word rose in pitch signaling a half-formed question.

"Yeah," a small sound of laughter added to my voice, "take of the dogs. Scruffy's a worrier."

The grin returned to Kain's face as he used the backs of his hands to wipe away tears. This time it wasn't forced. "Okay."

"You can stay there if you want to."

"At the apartment?"

"Yeah, it probably needs to be cleaned and I don't know if there's food, but you can stay with the dogs."

Kain nodded enthusiastically, "I will."

"Thanks."

Kain turned to go before stopping himself, "Oh, I almost forgot. That would have been dumb." He muttered the last sentence to himself. "Elizabeth wanted you to know that she and Rachel aren't forgetting you."

My shoulders dropped as I felt my mouth began to hang open. I quickly tightened my jaw so fast that I heard my teeth click.

"Also Rachel said that Anna is okay – worried but okay." Kain paused watching the shock leave my face. Kain then added for effect, "You sure know a lot of the café girls around here."

Still stunned, my replied sounded monotone in my ears, "Yeah, I eat out a lot."

Kain smiled. Most likely happy to be in on _this_ conversation.

"Tell 'em thanks. Don't go crazy – they'll know what it means."

Kain nodded, "See you later. I'll try to come by often."

As Kain left, I couldn't help but marvel at what I was just told. My worst fear was taken away. Al was safe. He knows that I'm in jail now, but safe.

And you . . . what were you thinking? You know good and well that you need to be as far from this as possible. If you got caught up in this, who knows what it will do to you goals? That would mean that Ebner or Raven or Hakuro would win. Not to mention the possible ramifications. They could put you in prison too.

And I wouldn't be your shield.

I'd be the weapon that landed a killing blow.

I knew that shouldn't be, but a large part of me was abundantly happy. Guilty but happy. Because, suddenly, I wasn't all alone – everything wasn't placed firmly on my shoulders. I could share it.

But sharing it meant sharing all of the outcome as well – for good or bad. And bad had a big head start.

I sat back against the wall letting my head hit the stone. I should have told you no. I should have told you to walk away.

Instead, I told you it was okay.

I really am a liability. When anyone else in your office would have turned your help away and I greedily accepted it.

Maybe I'm still that petulant child I convinced myself I out grew.

Unable to do anything without a guiding hand.

The next few days passed as a long string of hours. It was hard to tell what time it was or what day it was in this place.

The only way to know was the loud call for a particular meal and the shifting of light outside the cell window.

I can't have a newspaper. Something about awaiting trial and not being allowed. It was a bunch of shit because I could hear the distinct rustle of newspapers in the neighboring cells.

Only _I'm_ not allowed a newspaper.

I spent a lot of time cursing my stupidity and beating myself up. The effort amounted to very little. I wound up with an all-time low sense of self-esteem.

The only thing that came to break me from this self abuse was Kain. He'd give me what little information he could pass and I tried to convince him to tell Rachel and Elizabeth to forget about me. Whatever comes of this is my fault.

Kain wouldn't accept it.

But I desperately didn't want to be a liability.

I refused to accept it.

It wasn't Kain shouted, "But you're one of us!" Suddenly, his bull-headed determination to remain involved made sense. It was such a simple phrase too.

I could still picture the look on Kain's face. Those big brown eyes set with an unusual amount of purpose, the straight line of his mouth pressed firm, and his brows pulled fiercely together. Kain was resolute.

The reason they were joining in my suicidal cause was simply because I was one of them. I didn't need to ask or even want their help – it was going to be there.

I told him that it was stupid and they should leave what can't be helped. But Kain held his ground. "It doesn't matter. When a buddy is in need we don't back down – no matter how stupid it may seem." All for one.

A cryptic sense of irony crept through my mind at the phrase. _And All is one._

Perhaps I'm better suited for the military than I realized.

Kain left that day certain that I would never argue about that particular topic again. "Shut up and accept it." I had never heard Kain so serious about a topic that didn't include canines.

He didn't come the next day.

I was worried that I had pushed Kain too far. He had never really seemed military minded but perhaps I insulted his pride with my persistent questioning.

If I did, how can I apologize if he didn't come back.

I laughed at myself. Not too long I would have refused to apologize for anything. Now . . . well the time spent here is quite humbling. I've never felt more worried and useless at the same time.

Just a liability.

A liability with the foolish hope that you could pull off another miracle.

Another day passed without a visitor. I grew increasingly anxious. Popping up to see whoever passed by – hoping that it was my visitor.

But it never was.

I kept looking for visitors. Counting the hours was fraying my unsettled mind. It was so bad that when a familiar face stopped outside my cell, I was convinced that I had lost it entirely. The time here had made me completely crazy – I was even having visual hallucinations.

Then the hallucination spoke.

"Hi Brother."

A/N: While I was away I attempted to write out this one-shot that wouldn't leave me alone. And it is written. However, I attempted to write in 3rd person (which is frickin' hard). This resulted in something I'm not really happy with – so I'm reworking/rewriting it. It will be up someday in the hopefully not too distant future.

And always – please, please review. ^_^


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